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UNITED STATES ©P AMERICA, f 



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A NEW BOOK, 

uniform with this volume, and by the 
sa:me author. 



STOLEN WATERS. 

BY THE AUTHOR OF "BROKEN DREAMS." 



Sold by aU Booksellers, and sent by mail, postage free, on 

receipt of price, $1.50, by 

G. W. CARIiETON & CO., Publisbers, 

New York. 



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bV 




BROKEN DREAMS. 




CELIA E^^AKDNER, 

Author of " STOLEN WATERS." 



_J 



'Ti3 not so much a broken heart 

you have to mourn, as a broken dream ! " 

Ik. Marvel. 



^. 



NEW YORK: 
G, W, Carleton ^ Co,, Publishers, 

,■ i LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. 

M.DCCC.LXXIir. 






Q-^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 

G. W. CAHLETON & CO., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 



/z-mf 



Stereotyped at the 
WOMEN^S PRINTING HOUSE, 
56, 68 and 60 Park Street, 
New York. 



DEDICATION. 



To those who linger 'round the hearth of home/ 
My father, mother, sisters, friend, and one 
W7io, while these scenes^Pvefaintl?/ pencilled here. 
Has left the all of earth he held most dear. 
And gone in trixtmph upioard, to his God. 

TO THESE, 

And all my sex whose feet have trod 
The shadowed paths ofsorroto, and have seen 
Their brightest fancies merge in '■'■ broken dreams,'"' 

I 5 c b i x: a t £ 

This loork of leisure lours. 
This fragile garland formed of Hope's crushed flowers. 



1872. 



C. E. G. 




CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Book First . . .11 

Book Second 27 

Book Thikd 59 

Book Fourth 73 

Book Fifth 99 

Book Sixth . 141 

Book Seventh 167 

Book Eighth 189 

Book Ninth 211 

Book Tenth . .221 

L'Enyoi 251 




BEOKElSr DREAMS 



BOOK FIEST. 



"A beauty gay 
And pure as apple-blooms, which show 
Outside a blush, and inside snow." 



*' Standing with reluctant feet, 
Where the brook and river meet, 
Womanhood and childhood fleet." 



LONGFELIiOW. 




Broken Dreams 



*"Tis not so much a broken heart you have 
to mourn, as a broken dream I " 

Ik. Marvel. 



•rm- 



h Jf i r s t 



Eve's curtains fell in starry loveliness ! 
The sunset hues had faded in the west, 
And moonlit darkness, shrouding vale and mount, 
In radiance pale wi-apped lawn, and shrub, and fount. 
The fragrance which in garden borders slept, 
Within a cool, white-drap'ried chamber swept. 
And kissed, with loving touch, the cheek of one 
Low-bending there— a maiden, fair and young ! 



12 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Beside the open casement, low and broad, 
She knelt and mused— a maiden's happy thoughts, 
With care unclouded, innocent and sweet, 
Eose-tinted, pure, and fresh ! 

Her dainty feet 
To-day had stepped on one more roimd of time ! 
The silver bells, which rang the morning chimes. 
Rang in her eighteenth birthday! — while she gazed 
On entered womanhood with glad amaze. 

What fairy dreams of future bliss she dreamed ! 
What new, broad founts of joy before her seemed ! 
How bright the world that day should usher in ! 
She gave no thought to future woe and sin. 
Alas ! that one so innocent and fair. 
Should find, with woman's impotent despair, 
But " broken dreams," and hopes all empty air ! 

Life opened bright before her baby eyes ; 
She saw and welcomed it with shy surprise ; 
Guileless and swift her lovely childhood passed, 
Sheltered in loving arms from all rough blasts ; 
And youth was but a brief and happy dream — 
To-day finds her a woman ! — sweet eighteen ! 



BROKEN dreams: 13 

The clay has passed ! at eve she kneels alone, 
Beside the open casement in her room. 
Around her fleecy folds of snowy white 
Sweep, gently swayed by evening breezes light ; 
By ribbons of pale lavender confined, 
Her soft, dark hair floats in the summer wind ; 
Her rounded arm rests on the broad, low seat. 
And pressed against it is her peach-bloom cheek. 
The face is childish yet, but 'neath that brow 
Lie powers of thought and purpose, even now ; 
The mouth, though sweet and rosy, firm withal ; 
And when it smiles, holds all in pleasant thrall. 
Eyes, purple violets, wet with morning dew ! — 
Those violet eyes, so rare, so sweet, so true ! 
When first the dainty fringes parted wide, 
" My Pansy, sweet ! " the fond young mother cried. 
No name so suited to the soft-eyed babe, 
None to the pretty child, the lovely maid : 
They called her " Pansy," without more ado ; 
Their precious " Heart's-ease," Pansy sweet and true. 

Her parents' first-born, pride, and pet was she : 
Earth's richest mines, or depths of pulsing sea, 



14 BBOKEN DBEAMS. 

Could nothing yield so precious, priceless, rare : 
Naught to be guarded with such jealous care, 
As was this child, this Heav'n-intrusted gift ! 
No cloud so heavy but her smile could lift. 
No grief so deep her voice could not dispel. 
But while they wept, yet murmured " it is well I " 

With disposition sunny, sweet, and gay, 
A laugh that chased all gloom and tears away, 
Were blended self-reliance, strength, and will ; 
And though with grace all small points yielding, still, 
When larger issues were at stake, she stood 
Immovable, whatever opposed. The good 
A champion ever found in her ; the bad, 
What strong and ready sympathies she had. 

Her nature yet had found no scope to show 
How sweet and sound its depths. Life had been so 
Serene, untroubled, heaped with summer flowers, 
So sheltered, free from blighting care, her powers 
Of stern endurance undeveloped lay, 
Av/aiting life's dark days, which into play 
Should bring her nature's hidden sources, shaw 
How grand and strong the depths concealed below 



BROKEN DREAMS. 15 

Those witching smiles, that happy, girlish face, 
Those laughing, lovely eyes, wherein no trace 
Of sadness ever seemed to linger. Oh ! 
Woman's sad heritage of bitter woe, 
Of disappointment, pain, and sharp regret 
Had passed her by. She little knew, as yet, 
Of life's stern trials. 

Pretty child, thank God 
For happy youth and childhood ! for the broad, 
Sunshiny way thy youthful feet have trod ! 
The Hand that's showered blessings on thy path. 
In store for thee some bitter trials hath. 
Thy womarCs feet a way must ofttimes tread. 
Where thorns lie thickly strewn, while overhead 
Dark, gloomy clouds droop low. But keep undimmed 
Thine eye of faith, thy steady trust in Him 
Who sends both cross and crown ; keep pure and bright 
Thy woman's truth and honor, and the night 
Shall merge in dawn of roseate splendor, day 
From which all clouds and gloom have flown away. 

Although of nature high and broad and deep. 
Of temper amiable and kind and sweet, 



16 BROKEN DREAMS. 

I would not Olio sliould deem I mean to paint 
A creature all perfection, without taint 
Of fault or blemish . 

I've no love, I own. 
For faultless characters ! To One alone, 
Perfection doth pertain. And though I've known 
Large share of men and women, high and low, 
With natures broad and narrow, sharp and slow. 
Known many worthy of profound respect. 
With high and noble qualities, I yet 
Have never seen e'en one without defect 
Or flaw in character: — one with reo;ret 
For nothing past, no word or deed of wrong — 
None but proved weakest where they seemed most strong. 

If there are perfect natures, such as we 
Oft read about, 'tis very strange to me 
I never yet e'en one have chanced to see I 
Nor would I have it thus ! We could not give 
To God the reverence due, if while we live, 
We in all others did not fail to find 
The good the Trinity alone combine. 

Let God be God, and human creature human ! 
Let man be man, and woman truly woman ! 



BROKEN J)IiEAl^S. 17 

I aim to paint from Nature ; tliiis cannot 
A heroine give to you without a spot. 
I give a woman, spirited as mikl, 
As passionate as pure. Present a child, 
A little wilful, just a trifle spoiled, 
As only daughters often are ! and wild. 
Some people called her. True it is, her laujrh 
Kang ever clearest, sweetest ; yet not half 
Complete without her any gath'ring seemed. 
And hearts, unruled by envy, owned her queen. 

One playmate of her childhood God had given, 
A brother dear, at this time just eleven. 
A high-strung, wilful, handsome, black-eyed boy, 
At once his sister's torment, pride, and joy. 
A child that should been ruled with strict, firm hand, 
One who could not the least indulgence stand. 
But who, if given an inch, would take an ell. 
And always fought for his own wayward will. 
Instead, if sometimes he was made to bend 
His stubborn will to others, oft the end 
Of conflict sharp left him victorious, 
And future curbing more laborious. 



18 BROKEN DBEAMS. 

A wisli one time denied, wlien next expressed, 
His foolish parents granted his request. 
At one time punishment severe was given, 
For acts which next time no rebuke would win. 
His sister loved him dearly ; petted, praised, 
Caressed, led, guided, and in many ways 
Controlled, by force of stronger will than his. 
Desire and act. 

So true it ever is. 
The strongest always rules, though strength be sheathed 
Persuasion, gentleness, and love beneath. 
In truth, his sister ruled the house ! her word 
Was law immutable whenever heard. 
But ruling did not spoil her : not alone 
For selfish ends she used the pow'r she owned. 

Their mother, young when Pansy was eighteen, 
A woman handsome as is often seen — 
With slender, almost girlish form, and mien 
If haughty, graceful and attractive too. 
Soft, heavy hair of darkest midnight hue. 
Fine, clear-cut, haughty features, large, dark eyes. 
Brilliant as Winter's starry midnight skies. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 19 

And mind that, cast in Nature's fairest mould, 

To her ope'd riches, treasures all untold — 

Had sev'ral years been slowly losing ground 

In health and strength ; as every Spring rolled round, 

Still more the invalid herself she found ; 

Till now, a weary prisoner she'd become, 

Confined within the limits of her room, 

And suffering untold hours of racking pain. 

The change so gradual was, so slowly came. 

It startled less ; and only looking back 

To what she was, her daughter traced the track 

Of cruel, sharp, insidious disease. 

Which ever such sad, fearful ravage leaves. 

Sweet Pansy ministered with loving care, 

"With sunny smiles, fond words, and cheerful air, 

To all the fretful invalid's caprice. 

Although her efforts often failed to please. 

Her father, a refined, well-read, proud man, 
Fond of his home, his friends, his wealth, and land. 
Worshipped his lovely daughter, first-born child. 
And found his sweetest pleasure in her smile. 
And she to him gave love as warm and deep — 
But more unselfish — and obedience sweet. 



20 BBOKEN DREAMS. 

Her lover — for what girl in this fast age 
Has readied eighteen without some tender gage- 
Was Alfred Sumuer; fair-haired, tall, blue-eyed, 
A youth of twenty ; who, of those that vied 
With him for Pansy's favor, won the meed, 
And looked with pity on his friends' defeat. 
His home was in a western city far, 
But he'd been sent, as many young lads are. 
To eastern schools his studies to pursue ; 

And therefore came to B. For though 'tis true 

All fair New England's noted, justly too, 

For high scholastic privilege, no town 

Held higher rank than this the country 'round. 

The school, of which an inmate he had been 
For years, was well-conducted, disciplined. 
And taught. Its pupils, lads of every age. 
All rich men's sons ; and almost every state 
From shore to shore was represented here ; 
And though the school had rivals, yet 'twas clear 
None in the town had ranks more promptly filled. 
Its situation 'mong the breezy hills 
That skirt so many of our eastern towns. 
And which such puffs of clear, pure air send down, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 21 

Gave health and strength to many slender boys, 
Which filled their anxious parents' hearts with joy. 

*' The Institute," located scarce a mile 
Outside the village limits, all the while 
Boasting some lads that thought themselves young men, 
No small attraction evidently lent 
To village social life. Conceited, vain. 
As city-bred boys often are, 'tis plain. 
They flirted with a skill and art indeed, 
Worthy much older triflers ; little heed 
They gave to what results their acts might lead^ 
Although I must confess, the village maids 
Were not so simple as they're oft portrayed ; 
And many a youth acknowledged he had been 
Wofully duped by girls he'd boasted " green." 

In one of fair New England's fairest towns, 
Our Pansy's home was situate. High mounts 
Enclosed the emerald valley on all sides 
In antique setting. Deep, and clear^ and wide, 
A noble river glided smoothly through. 
And many a tiny, murmuring streamlet too. 
No spot in all the place but gave a view 



22 BROKEN DBEAMS. 

Exquisite, picturesque, sublime. An eye 

Artistic, every scene would gratify. 

And then wliat wealth of richly shaded green, 

In the luxuriant foliage is seen. 

When June, that royal month, crowns mount and glen 

With coronet of summer's rarest gems, 

And showers with lavish hand both far and near. 

The sweetest flowers of all the lovely year. 

Within the centre of this pretty town. 
On which the crested hills looked grandly down. 
Was Pansy Grey's loved home. The house, a fine, 
Large, gothic cottage : many a flow'ring vine 
Enwreathed the trellised portico, and climbed 
To pointed window casement, hanging there 
A shade, with trac'ry delicate and fair ; 
And tossing through the dainty, shaded rooms. 
The incense of their ravishing perfume. 
The grounds were filled with trees, and shrubs, and 

flowers, 
With here and there a tiny rustic bower ; 
A fountain's soft, pellucid waters fell 
In marble basin, girt with pink-lined shells ; 



BROKEN DBEAM8. 23 

In front a gravelled walk swept to the street, 
Where rustic gate shut in the sweet retreat ; 
And in the rear, a smooth and close-cut lawn, 
To pebbled river edge, sloped gently down. 




BEOKEN DEEAMS. 



BOOK SECOKD. 



"Why should her fleeting day-dream fade unspoken. 
Like daffodils that die with sheaths unbroken? " 

Holmes. 



"Whom first we love we seldom wed I " 





BROKEN DREAMS 



00k S> ttan)i 



The lazy summer days speed swiftly by, 
And golden August comes. The meadows lie, 
And in the fructifying, genial light 
Of glad, midsummer sunshine, bask their bright 
And graceful heads of bending, waving grain, 
Heavy with rip'ning fruit. O'er hill and plain 
There broods the purple haze, the pulsing air, 
Of summer's sleepy queen ; if passing fair. 
Voluptuous and indolent as well ; 
And yet her tropic bosom's every swell 
Reveals the passionate and glowing life 
Which beats beneath the lazy surface, rife 



28 BROKEN' DREAMS. 

With bloom and beauty. On the southern breeze, 
Perfume like that which floats o'er southern seas, 
Seems wafted fresh from spicy tropic bowers. 
And every breath's a "balm of thousand flowers." 
The orchards toss from freighted branches down, 
Their tempting .burden, strewing all the ground 
With luscious sweetness. Garden borders yield 
A world of blush and beauty, and the fields 
Are sprinkled too with Nature's gift of bloom. 
The forest aisles seem wrapped in sullen gloom. 
So dense their fretted arches. Early morn 
Is vocal with the thrilling, praiseful song 
Of many bright-hued birds — gay visitants 
From far-off homes in sunny southern lands. 
The locust's song, the busy hum of bees. 
The low of kine, the sigh of waving trees, 
The sound of fretting water makes the noon 
Melodious too. And when the crescent moon 
Concludes the long, sweet twilight, and the stars 
Attend her majesty's triumphal car. 
In journeys on the fair reverse of heaven. 
And sultry day is lost in jewelled even. 
The song of " whippoorwill " the silence breaks — 
The sad refrain the mournful echoes take, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 29 

And send it back with added sadness fraught. 
The mournful echoes waken mournful thought, 
Until the cheerful call of " katy-did " 
Dispels the baneful reverie, and bids 
Echo and thought begone. 

The summer days, 
So full of blossom, fruit, and happy lay, 
Brought in their sleepy flitting, changes, too ; 
To some sad partings brought. The Institute 
Would soon dissolve its merry band of lads. 
For summer's long vacation. Many glad. 
Fond parents' hearts were beating high with joy. 
At thought of meeting soon their absent boys ; 
And many happy, bright-eyed, laughing maids, 
In pensive sigh, and thoughtful eye, betrayed 
Regret at parting, and perhaps distrust 
Lest all the pretty vows should prove like dust. 
Which the first breath of absence should disperse — 
Their names become a mem'ry faint, or worse. 
Forgotten quite. 

But what to Pansy 'Grey 
Had come with these warm, bright midsummer days. 
Since early June her birthday ushered in. 
With dreams of joy that era should begin ! 



30 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Not many steps in entered womanhood, 
Which looked so fair in fancy's light, she took, 
Before her feet had felt the prick of thorns 
Which strew the path of every woman born 
Of poor frail Eve's descendants. " Woman's lot " 
Was on her, and with pangs she ne'er forgot, 
She saw her lovely dream, as brief as sweet. 
Fade into empty air. With anguish dee]3 
She watched its slow dissolving, thrust aside 
The mem'ry of the happy past, and tried 
With woman's calm endurance, and the strength 
Her noble nature held, and which at length 
Stern sorrow had developed, to forget 
And conquer. Pretty one, thank God, as yet 
You've but a " broken drewm " to mourn, not heart, 
And strength and courage let that thought impart. 

My reader, doubtless to your mind I gave 
A wrong impression, when of Pansy Grey's 
Young friend I spoke as lover : doubtless you 
Inferred he was declared, accepted, too ; 
But that was error. His attentions had. 
In truth, been very marked, and 'twas with glad. 
Strong thrills of triumph, he at length perceived 
He'd distanced all competitors, believed 



BROKEN DREAMS. 31 

He now stood first in pretty Pansy's heart. 
The time approaching when they soon must part, 
Perhaps for long, as this vacation brought 
His school-days' termination, Sumner thought 
'Twere best that he should speak, and render thus 
" Assurance doubly sure." 

With happy trust 
He sought her home one pleasant, balmy eve 
In early August. Being well received 
By Pansy's parents ever, he believed 
He need anticipate from them not one 
Objection to his suit. With her alone 
He felt the issue lay ; nor did he fear 
Rejection there. I think no lover e'er 
Went to the time of trial more assured. 
Or buoyant with a love more fond and pure. 
And yet he was not a conceited man — 
Or I may say at least, not more so than 
His^sex in general. He had, indeed, 
No little reason not to fear that he'd 
Much obstacle encounter. So he went 
To Pansy's home, with every thought intent 
Upon the evening's pleasant task in store. 



32 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Within the pretty parlor's long glass door 
He met the blushing girl. Her usual seat, 
Beside the open window of the neat 
And handsome sitting-room, gave her a view 
Of street, and gate, and gravelled pathway too ; 
A well-known form's approach had sent, therefore, 
The watcher to the open parlor door. 

Did Sumner's face betray his heart's high hopes 
As in his own her soft white hand he , 'closed ? 
Or did the ardent clasping tell the tale, 
And hide those violet eyes beneath the veil 
Of heavy fringes, flush the clear, soft cheek, 
And thrill the girlish voice so passing sweet ? 
A moment's careless chatting where they met. 
And then with one consent the house they left. 
And slowly strolled down to the river's shore. 

The night was lovely ! Calm, and burnished o'er. 
The noble stream slipped quietly along. 
With scarce a murmur of its usual sons 
The tiny ripples laving pebbled beach. 
Across the stream, in varied, lofty reach, 
The noble tree-crowned mountaios towered hiwh 
Sharply defined against the placid sky 



BROKEN DREAMS. 33 

Of cloudless evening, where there lingered yet 
The rosy hues the royal day-god left, 
When taking his departure from the scene, 
Where in his absence reigned his lovely queen. 
The air was clear as autumn mornings are, 
Ere indian summer comes : and from afar, 
The voice of song was wafted to the ear, 
Sweet a^ canary's warble, full and clear ; 
And told a tale of youth and happy hearts, 
The witching joy a lovely eve imparts. 
When floating lazily adown a stream. 
Fretted with silver by the moon's soft beams. 
Ah, yes ! a tale of youth and sunny dreams. 
Of hopes unblighted, and a life which seems 
As yet, a glowing, cloudless summer day ; 
Ere grief, and pain, and care have snatched away 
The ring of gladness from the bird-like voice. 
The swell of hope, and love, and youthful joys. 

Just where the lawn was merged in golden beach, 
And just beyond the dimpling water's reach, 
A templed arbor stood : Its rustic seats 
A lovely view commanded : This retreat, 
3* 



34: BROKEN DREAMS, 

A favored haunt of Pansy's, often held 

A form of strong and manly grace as well. 

And so with tacit acquiescence then, 

Their careless stroll was ended there again. 

No lover, surely, more auspicious scene 

E'er had, or wished, to merge his lovely dream 

In sweet reality ! 

With short delay • 

He broached the subject which had all the way 
Been trembling on Ms lips. On Pansy's cheek. 
The flush his coming called there, still burned deep ; 
The violet eyes were turned away from him, 
Fixed on the distant mountains, growing dim 
In eve's " purpureal light." One dimpled hand 
Pressed idly 'gainst her lips a dainty fan. 
The other lay upon the rustic seat. 
But not for long ! for one whose pulses beat 
With strong vibrations, from its resting-place 
Lifted, and clasped it close. On Pansy's face 
The rosy flush still brighter, deeper burned, 
As her audacious lover slowly turned 
The smiling lips and downcast eyes around. 

"Pansy!" 

The shaded eyes still sought the ground. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 35 

The rosy lips unclosed for no reply. 

He gazed a moment with impassioned eye 

Upon the tell-tale face, then spoke again : 

*' Pansy, next week our summer school-term ends ; 
And when I leave this pretty, eastern town, 
Where I so many kindly friends have found, 
So many pleasant, happy hours have passed, 
'Twill be for long. This term will be my last. 
For with it ends my school days. Thus, this eve, 
I come to crave a boon, I come to leave 
With you, the dearest ffiend I here can claim, 
A gift, that sometimes shall recall my name 
With thrill of pleasure, one that shall insure 
Kemembrance, when this moonlight, soft and pure, 
Shines on me in my far-off western home, 
And you are sitting here, but all alone I " 

The shadows swiftly fell, and Pansy hailed 
With joy the delicate, impervious veil. 
Which, while her features' outlines it revealed, 
It their expressive changes yet concealed. 
Her hand he still with warm, firm pressure held, 
But only for a moment, had compelled 



36 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Her face to turn to him : for there he read 
That from those artless lips he need not dread 
Kefusal of his suit, and therefore soon 
Released the blushing captive. 

He resumed 
With scarce a moment's pause : 

" And thus, the boon 
I crave is Pansy's love ! The gift I bring 
Is all my heart, and as a pledge, this ring : 
And Pansy, love, I seal the whole with this." 

He paused, then drew her close, and pressed a kiss 
Upon the sweet and unresisting lips 
Of her he held, and knew his ardent wish 
Was granted, in that mute, but sweet assent. 
No words of love could given more content, 
Than did her passive acquiescence yield. 

A ray of moonlight peeping in, revealed 
With sudden flash the costly pledge he brought, 
As he the glitt'ring emblem of their troth 
Placed on the taper finger of the hand 
He now might claim as his. And all the land 
No hearts contained, that lovely summer night, 
That beat more high with joy, held hopes more bright, 



BROKEN dreams: Z1 

Or less foreboding felt of coming pain, 
Of clays of bitter grieving, than those twain 
How sad it is, that sorrow ever crowds 
Close on the heels of joy ! that heavy clouds 
Must darken soon the clearest summer sky, 
And disappointment dim the brightest eye I 

When — after chatting for a happy hour 
Upon the portico, where climbing flowers 
The night-breeze gently swayed, and filled the air 
With sweetest perfume, while the tendrils fair 
Kissed the flushed cheek, and wreathed the heavy curls 
Which swept the temples of the happy girl 
Behind the leafy screen, — the hour grew late, 
They parted at the little rustic gate. 
To meet once more when on the pretty town 
Queen Luna and her suite again looked down, 
And when the joyful lover hoped to crown 
The night's success, by gaining to their troth 
Consent from Pansy's parents. Not a thought 
Of their refusal marred his dreams that night ; 
Sleeping or waking, all were glad and bright. 



Another sultry day passed swiftly on, 
And brought a low'ring eve ! Dark clouds bent down. 



S8 BROKEN' DREAMS. 

Freighted with storm and tempest : Now and then 

The heavy, tumbling masses, parting, sent 

A flash of golden light from out the pent 

And heaving bosom of the brooding storm ; 

And low and ominous, as if to warn 

'Of pending danger, came the distant boom 

Of mutt'ring thunder : and the frightened moon 

Seemed flying from the swift-pursuing clouds. 

The rising wind, with moans which grew more loud 

With every passing moment, shook and tossed 

The topmost branches of the trees, 'till lost 

In that deceitful calm, which seems to breed 

The fiercer tempest when the gale succeeds. 

E'en in the gloom of such a pending storm, 
The templed arbor on the grassy lawn 
Again was occupied ! For Pansy there, 
To wait her lover's coming, had repaired. 
While, confident of winning their consent 
To his desire, he to her parents went. 

With heart unquiet as the sighing wind, 
Which tapped and rattled at the latticed blind. 
Impatient as the fretting waves, that rose 
And fell below, she waited for the close 



BUOKEN DREAMS. 39 

Of what to her a long, long confrence seemed — • 
Waited to know if all her lovely dreams 
Should be fulfilled, or dashed in ruin down, 
To lie in broken fragments on the ground. 
In vain she told herself no cause she had 
To fear her hopes' o'erthrow. In vain she bade 
Her heart to cease its trembling, rise above 
The fears no reasoning could yet remove ; 
In vain she thought of how her parents kind 
Had ever borne her slightest wish in mind, 
Left no desire ungratified, — e'er sought 
Her highest happiness and good : and ought 
She now their love and kindness to distrust, 
To fear opposal when she had so much 
At stake ? Would they not recollect their own 
Young, happy days, and see 'twas not alone 
Her present pleasure their reply involved. 
But life-long happiness ? Could they resolve 
To crush her new-born hopes at one fell blow. 
And blight her happy life ? 

She did now know — 
The pretty child ! — that though there's naught " so sweet 
In life as love's young dream," 'tis not so deep. 



40 BROKEN DREAMS. 

And strong, and lasting as the young heart deems, 

When 'neath the spell of that bewild'ring dream. 

That hope, though crushed, will spring to life again. 

And that it takes a world of grief and pain. 

Takes many a hurt, and disappointment sharp, 

To crush a woman's buoyant, hopeful heart. 

She had not learned not many stand the test 

Of silence and long absence ; that the best 

And truest men, and women too, forget 

The friends they loved, before " 'round absence crept 

The weed of custom," and their names become 

A mem'ry, and no more. She, jDretty one, 

Had many bitter lessons yet to learn. 

Many a cold, sharp corner yet to turn. 

The night grew blacker ! bright and brighter flashed 
The golden chains o'erhead. More near and fast 
The rolling thunder boomed. The wind rushed past 
"With louder moan and fiercer, angrier blast. 
And as the first large raindrops patt'ring fell, 
There came a hasty step she knew full well, 
And Sumner stood within the arbor door. 
At last her vigil, long and lone, was o'er. 



BROKEN DBEAMS. ' 41 

A blinding flash of light revealed the scene, 
And Pansy quickly sprang, with startled scream. 
To meet her welcome friend. 

"Why, Pansy, dear! 'y 
He said, "I did not dream you'd tarry here 
Until the tempest broke. Come in, my child. 
Before the storm grows yet more fierce and wild ; 
My precious Heart' s-ease, come ! " 

He caught her hand, 

And drew her out upon the damp'ning sand. 
Across the lawn, the garden, np the steps, 
Nor paused, nor scarcely spoke, until they left 
The wind and rain and darkness all outside. 
And breathless, panting, stood within the bright 
And cosey parlor, where the brilliant light. 
And curtains closely dravm, shut out the night 
And tempest. 

Fair as artist's fairest dream 
Of woman. Pansy looked, as o'er her streamed 
The soft and beautifying light. Her cheek 
Flushed from the rapid walk, and dimpled deep 
By witching smiles which wreathed the scarlet lips, 
Sweet as a rose-bud's heart, ere o'er it flits 



42 BROKEN DREAMS. 

The dainty southern bird, and gayly dips 

His fairy beak within the cup, to sip 

The honeyed dew and nectar hiding there. 

The eyes. Spring's dewy violets ! eyes so rare, 

And yet so passing lovely — true as blue ! 

The heavy fringes deepening their hue 

To purple pansies. Eyes that smiled to-night. 

And shone and sparkled with a glad, soft light. 

Her sad forebodings now forgotten quite, 

Left with the gloom and darkness of the night. 

The smooth, white forehead, crowned with soft, dark 

hair, 
Whose simple curls swept shoulders gleaming fair 
And white, beneath the snowy muslin robe. 
Which 'round the girlish form in soft folds flowed, 
Believed and brightened by the knot and band 
And sash of rosy pink, which gently spanned 
The slender, rounded waist, bound back the hair, 
And blushed beneath the chin so round and fair. 
The hands were white and soft, and gleaming there, 
A single diamond flashed. 

The man who gazed 
Upon the lovely, girlish form and face, 



BROKEN DBEAM8, 43 

Each pretty detail of the picture sweet, 

Took in, and stamped upon his heart. The deep 

And long-drawn sigh that heaved his manly breast, 

Betrayed the sharp regret and sad-unrest 

Which swelled within his heart. The heavy sigh 

Smote painfully on Pansy's ear. Her eye 

Lost all the gladness that had sparkled there ; 

Her rosy lips forgot to smile ; her fair. 

Soft cheek retained no more its peachy flush ; 

And o'er her sinking heart again there rushed 

The last hour's dark forebodings. 

Sumner drew 
Her gently to a seat beside him, threw 
His arm around her slender waist, and said — 
Resting his cheek upon the lovely head, 
"While lower sank the poor girl's heart with dread — 
" Oh, Pansy, dear, our happy, lovelit dreams 
Are dashed to earth, and scarcely one bright beam 
Of hope remains. Your parents heard my plea. 
And then, with one consent, refused to me 
The boon I sought. In vain I plead and prayed 
For one small ray of hope, that at some day 
Far in the vista of the coming years, 
I then might claim the gift I hold so dear — 



44 BROKEN' DREAMS. 

This little hand. In vain I urged your love, 
Your disappointment did they not approve 
And ratify your choice ; reminding them 
'Twas not my happiness alone, which then 
On their decision hung. But not one plea 
Could win the answer sought, and give to me • 
T^ie right to hold you thus, and know you mine. 
We both were quite too young, they said, and time 
Would ease whatever pain we now might know. 
The wisdom, too, of their decision show. 
That absence soon would teach us to forget ; 
And though for me they had a high respect, 
[Knew naught of me to which they could object. 
My character was still unformed, as yet. 
And contact with the world might prove me quite 
Unfit, through all the rougher storms of life. 
To shield and guard their treasure, who was still 
A mere sweet, happy child, who to their will 
Would bend without a murmur. And, althoufjh 
I urged to this, that time alone would show 
How far I might be worthy of their trust. 
And Pansy's precious love, and that it must 
The child develop into woman, j^rove 
The constancy and jDower of our love, 



BROKEN DREAMS. ' 45 

And each of their objections conld remove, 
How gladly would we wait for their consent, 
With how much trust and patience and content, 
They still refused to give me any hope. 
Oh Pansy, darling ! must I give you up ? 
Can you not see a single ray of light 
In all the gloom around us ? has the night 
No star to cheer us, gives it not e'en one 
Bright promise of a rosy dawn to come ? " 

The girl beside him listened to his tale 
In silence, and with cheek that flushed and paled 
Alternately, and eye that flashed and dimmed, 
And told the conflict sharp that raged within. 
Her parents' long indulgence ill prepared 
Their child to witness tamely all her fair, 
^ Sweet hopes demolished at one cruel blow. 
A child indeed ! should she not let them know 
There slept a woman's strength of will below 
The grace and softness of their pliant child ? 
Did they, indeed, think her so tame and mild, ' 
That she without a murmur would submit 
To have no voice in what they must admit 



46 BROKEN DBEAM8, 

Concerned herself most nearly ? They would find 
That, far too late, they had begun to bind 
Her will to theirs in sweet submission, when 
She had so much at issue. That 'twas then 
Too late to have a wish so strong denied, 
When trivial ones had long been gratified. 

The first tumult of disappointment brought 
Kebelhon ; and the petted child forgot — 
In indignation at the cruel " no," 
"Which left no room for hope, and overthrow 
Of all their happy plans — the rev'rence due, 
The sweet obedience and gratitude. 
Their love and kind indulgence hitherto 
Had merited. '' And while I'd not sustain 
[A child in disobedience, I'd aim 
To censure the extravagant extent. 
To which a parent's interference, when 
Their child's whole future in the balance hangs, 
Is often carried. ' When, with careless hands. 
They dash the cup of joy from eager lips. 
And blight the lives of those whose happiness 
Should been their aim. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 47 

Another hour passed on ! 
Outside, the strength and fury of the storm 
Had spent itself, and through the drifting clouds 
The moon looked forth, and from her sable shroud 
Shone clear and bright, her lovely face undimmed 
By her brief hour of mourning. But within, 
The clouds in all their blackness still hung low, 
And di'aped two hearts in sable weeds of woe. 

At last the lovers parted ; Sumner still v 
Quite unconsoled, and Pansy's royal will 
Yet raging in rebellion. They'd discussed 
From every point the subject uppermost 
In both their hearts ; but had as yet arrived 
At no conclusion. Pansy still denied, 
"With indignation strong, her parents' right 
To rule her choice in such a case as this : 
And Sumner, all his wealth of new-found bliss 
Dissolving fast, in his despair could see 
No hope of brighter days to come, when he 
The treasure he was losing might regain. 
And when he said " good-night," a thrill of pain 
Shot through his heart, as he recalled how high 
It throbbed with hope when he had said good-by 



4g BROKEN DREAMS. 

To this dear little girl the night before, 

And turned to see the moonbeams shining o'er 

The pretty figure at the rustic gate,. 

Wliich smilingly another farewell waved. 

In contrast with this i^icture came the one 

He saw to-night, as he again had turned ' 

For one last look. The flow'r-wreathed portico 

A drooping figure framed, with head bent low 

In deep dejection, and a lovely face, 

With lips that had no smile, and eyes that gazed 

Through gath'ring tears at his receding form. 

From this night's disappointment there was bom 
In Pansy's stormy heart the firm resolve 
That their engagement should not be dissolved 
Without a struggle. She would see, she said, 
What she could do ! 

At last the weary head 
Was pillowed in the little dainty bed ; 
,, Sweet sleep, descending softly, tarried there, 
I Pressed kisses on the eyelids white and fair, 
.And speedily exhausted Nature claimed 
A respite for the weary heart and brain. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 49 

Day after day passed rapidly along, 
'Till seven dewy eves and rosy morns 
Slept side by side within their silent tombs 
In vast Eternity's sepulchral rooms. 
Unchangeable their good or evil deeds — 
Their records closed, their fleeting lives complete. 

The dying days had also brought to those 
Of whom I write, the death of sickened Hope. 
They watched the rosy child gi^ow pale and faint, 
Droop slowly day by day, until with pained 
And sinking hearts, they saw their first-born die. 
With whitened cheeks, and mournful, tearful eyes, 
They laid their lovely infant in the grave 
Of buried love and joy, o'er which there waved 
The weeping willow's drooping boughs alone. 
Whereon no daisies sprang, no grass had grown. 
With saddened hearts they turned away at last, 
Took up again life's burden, which the past — 
Wherein their Hope was born and quickly died — 
Had rendered heavy that was erst so light, 
And bravely tried to banish all regret. 
And learn o'er what was helpless, not to fret. 

Poor Pansy's word had faithfully been kept ! 
3 



50 BROKEN DREAMS. 

She tried indeed to " see what she could do," 
But shortly found that she was vanquished too. 
Not after one, but many struggles sharp, 
Did she the cherished wish that filled her heart 
Resign ; consent with her young love to part 
As friends, and friends alone, to meet no more 
As loved and lover, — watch the closing door 
Between their throbbing hearts, which happy love 
Had opened wide, and sadly trace above 
The fastened portals — " Closed forevermore ! 
Parental will has locked the golden door. 
And dropped the key within despair's deep well, 
Whose bitter waters clutched it as it fell ! " 

Yes, selfishness had triumphed ! Pleased to see 
Their child attention, homage, love receive, 
They yet desired to keep her all their own, 
Free from all other ties. And there alone 
The motive for their stern refusal lay. 
Sweet Pansy doubtless would have won the day, 
Had she no nobler, more unselfish been. 
Than those who bore and reared her. As for him- 
The man she loved — her parents each confessed 
They found no fault in him : they could not rest 
Befusal on her friend's unworthiness. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 51 

Their youth was all their plea : and though 'twas plain 
Time surely 'd make them old enough, in vain 
That argument to theirs the girl opposed ; 
It had no weight. In vain did she propose, 
As Sumner had, their marriage to delay 
For years, were it desired, if they would say 
She then should have their blessing and consent. 
'Twas all of no avail. And when at length 
They sternly bade her choose between the two, — 
Remain with them to whom her love was due. 
Or go with him and their displeasure prove. 
Which she in vain should labor to remove, — 
With trembling lip, but eye that dropped no tear. 
And tone, if tremulous and low, yet clear, 
She answered as she sadly turned away : 

" My choice is made ! your will I must obey : 
I cannot wed unless with your consent : 
But when the happy love, and sweet content 
With which together you two, hand in hand. 
And heart to heart, your pilgrimage began 
Along the way which led you to the land 
Of wedded happiness, you shall recall. 
Then for one troubled moment think of all 



52 BROKEN DREAMS. 

To-night's refusal to your child denies, 
And ponder well if you in this are wise." 

She left the room ; and midnight saw her still 
Crouched on the floor, the casement's low, broad sill 
Her rounded arm supporting, where was pressed 
The tear-stained cheek, the balmy breeze caressed. 
As if in gentle pity for the pain 
Which pierced the tender youthful heart, it fain 
Would soothe, — her temples throbbing 'neath the veil 
Of silken cui-ls that swept the cheeks so pale. 
And eyes — those lovely eyes, wherein had crept 
A sadness chasing out their smiles — all wet 
And flushed with bitter tears which they had wept. 
Much grievous sorrow she'd that night passed through : 
The fiercest struggle now was o'er, she knew. 

The morning brought commencement day — the eve 
Her disappointed lover, to receive 
His last farewell. We will not linger o'er 
The bitter parting ! Let us close the door 
Upon the scene, shut in the sad, sad twain. 
Parting they felt to never meet agaiu. 
Shut in the tears, and sobs, and kiss^ 
The clinging arms, fond words, and mournful 




BROKEN DREAMS. 53 

The silent sorrow of the last sad hour,— 

And stand with Pansy 'neath the drooping flowers 

Of vine-clad portico, as on her ear 

The echo of his footsteps fall, with drear, 

Sad mournfulness, and whispers that the tale 

Of love is ended. 'Gainst the trellis frail 

She leans for long in bitter reverie ; ' 

And as she turns at last, and heavily 

Her soft hand raises to her aching brow, 

The light which over her is streaming now 

From open parlor door, with sudden gleam 

Keveals that on her finger still, the ring 

Of their betrothal glitters. 

When she drew 
The pretty circlet off, and dropped into 
Her lover's hand the emblem of their troth 
So quickly broken, he in troubled thought 
Toyed for a moment with the costly pledge 
Which he one eve by pebbled river-edge. 
So joyfully had giv'n the happy girl — 
With violet eyes and cheeks of roseate pearl, 
Whereon the pretty flush of new-born love 
No longer burned — and then he bent above 



54 BROKEN DREAMS, 

The little hand he held in tender clasp, 

Slipped back the ring where it had glittered last, 

And said : " No, Pansy darling, keep the ring. 

And let it often fond remembrance bring 

Of him who loved you well. I would not, dear. 

You should forget the one who holds you here 

To-night, with such mad longing. While its gleam 

Awakes one thought of this our happy dream. 

So brief, and though so sad, so passing sweet, 

You'll not forget the friend who hopes to keep 

A warm and tender spot in your dear heart. 

Though 'tis to meet no more this eve we part. 

And so, my precious Heart's-ease, keep the ring, 

'Till on this little snowy hand shall gleam 

The gage of one your parents shall approve. 

When that time comes, then send it back, my Love ! " 



And so the happy dream in fragments lay ! 
The veil of youth was rudely torn away. 
And Pansy Grey her first sad lesson learned 
From woman's book of fate. The first leaf turned 
Was written o'er with disappointment sharp : 
Would every page reveal a bitter smart ? 



BBOEEN DREAMS. 55 

Some women find no others ! was she one 
Whom tales of hope fulfilled her eyes would shun ? 
Or was it true a " broken dream " alone, 
Not broken heart, it was she had to mourn ! 




BKOKEN DEEAMS 



BOOK THIRD. 



'•But time wore on 1 'roitnd absence crept 
The weed of custom, and the absent one 
Became at last a mem'ry and no more." 

Owen Meredith. 



•' Flown on the wings of rapture 1 Is this de*h ? " 

J. G. Holland. 




3* 



Broken Dreams 



io0k @;&iri> 



And " time wore on ! " Days swiftly came and went, 
Witli Summer's wealth of verdure, soon was blent 
The royal tints of Autumn ! Brilliant leaves. 
Beneath whose radiant flush of beauty leaps 
The swiftly ebbing pulse of death, in heaps 
Of crimson, purple, amber, brown and gold. 
Were piled upon the stift^'ning ground, grown cold 
Beneath the kisses of the dying year. 
Then Winter came ! old, hoary, dropping tears 
Of sorrow o'er the year's departed bloom — 
Its youth so full of promise, merging soon 



60 BROKEN' DREAMS. 

In early manliood passionate and rasli, 

With life and beauty glowing — passing fast 

To riper middle age — that also gone ! 

Spring's bnd, and summer's blossom, blush and song, 

And Autumn's fruit all gathered — nothing left 

But leafless trees, and grass all brown and dead : 

No flower, no fruit, no bird, no balmy air. 

But frost and cold, decay, death everywhere ! 

So Winter, weeping tears which ere they fell 
Were changed to drops of ice, o'er hill and dell 
All brown and sere, o'er leafless shrub and tree, 
O'er far-off mountain-top and lonely lea, 
With loving, pitying hand a mantle spread — 
A snowy shroud to hide his mournful dead ! 
But Winter also died ! Then Spring, his heir, 
Came robed in garments bright, and fresh and fair. 
With lovely flowers crowned, by mirth and song 
Attended, as he gayly tripped along. 
And now proud Summer once again was here ! 

, To Pansy's lovely face an added year 
Had giv'n an added beauty. To the lips, 
That trembled 'neath her first-love's parting kiss 



BROKEN DREAMS. 61 

A twelvemonth since, a sweeter curve was giv'n ; 

Yet in repose betrayed how she had striven 

And conquered pain. Not quite so pink the cheeks, 

Yet softer, fairer still. And eyes — so deep 

And lovely ever, eyes so full of smiles 

A year ago, and smiling on, the while 

In secret many bitter tears they wept, 

Now hid within their tender, lustrous depths, 

Where violet shadows lurked, a sweeter light, 

A softer radiance as pure as bright : 

A look that said the soul that lay beyond 

Had grown more loving still, more strong and fond : 

That life for her a deeper meaning held, 

More earnest had become : that told how well 

And bravely were the last year's burdens borne. 

And yet, when all is said, I can but own 

I've failed in showing what the subtle grace 

The added year had given : the lovely face 

A nameless charm possessed, and which my pen 

Is pow'rless to describe : I leave it then 

To yoii, my reader, to compare with one 

As fair and sweet which you perchance have known. 

The wise man tells us that the human heart's 
Above all things deceitful ! Thus imparts 



62 BROKEN DREAMS. 

A truth we all must sanction. Wlio but finds 

The statement verified from time to time, 

If he beneath the surface looks : and who 

But must acknowledge what he thought to do 

Was left undone, and many an act performed, 

Which he in contemplation would have scorned. 

Few their own capabilities can know, 

Till trials stern, and strong temptations, show 

Their nature's depth and strength ; some shallow prove, 

Some grand and firm — all purity and love. 

We look into our hearts, and deem we read 
Each page that's written there. Look long and deep. 
Discuss its motives, passions, feelings, thoughts. 
Its likes and detestations, faults, and aught 
Beside we can discover there, and deem 
We fully know ourselves : but like a dream 
That's full of inconsistency and change, 
We find ere long — and think it passing strange — 
We've been deceived most sadly ! and by what ? 
/By nothing less than our own fickle hearts l) 

For instance : we perchance may have a friend ! 
We own we like, esteem him much ; but then 



\ 



BROKEN DREAMS. 63 

'Tis only friendship of the purest kind 

We feel for him ; and yet, surprised, we find 

At length, our friendship's ripened into love. 

Unconsciouslyj it may be, we above 

All others in our hearts have him enthroned, 

To reign forever there, supreme, alone. 

Again, we may perhaps have loved for long, 

And with affection passionate and strong. 

We'd treat with indignation any talk 

Of possible estrangement, any thought 

That coolness, absence, silence, time, or aught 

Beside, could ever any change effect — 

Less potent render love like ours : and yet. 

When tested, have we not sometimes to own 

We were deceived ? The bird of love had flown 

On wings of change and absence from our hearts ? 

That what we deemed was of our souls a part, 

A passion strong as life, was, after all, 

A fleeting, fond emotion ? — love miscalled ! 

Yet, notwithstanding this, I do believe 
\ In life's grand passion ! Love that never leaves 
The heart it enters, never sufiers change. 
And that no power on earth can e'er estrange. 



64 BnOKEN DREAMS. 

But this is rare ; few natures are so deep 
As to contain a passion strong and sweet, 
As lasting, potent, tender, and complete 
As that ! 

But life one strong emotion has, 
That's neither love nor friendship ! For the last 
'Tis somewhat too exacting, jealous, rash. 
And passionate as well ; and it is quite 
Too selfish, shallow, vacillating, light, 
And impotent to be the first. No name 
For this emotion doth our speech contain. 
We call it " love ! " but those who both have known. 
That it is thus misnamed, must surely own. 
'Tis like a portrait of a lovely face ! 
It's sweet, and pretty, full of tender grace, 
And yet is but a semhlance of the warm 
And pulsing life within the perfect form. 
'Tis like an apple-blossom ! fair and sweet. 
Yet soon its snow lies crushed beneath our feet; 
And lovely as it may be, 'tis in truth 
A promise merely of the coming fruit. 
'Tis like a dream, bewilderingly sweet. 
Of one we love, and long, perchance, to meet ! 



V 



BROKEN DREAMS. 65 

The dream is blissful ! what, though, when compared 
To glad reality, when both should share 
The joy of meeting? Lovely as it seems. 
We wake, ere long, to find 'tis but a dream. 

And thus with Pansy Grey ! She deemed her love 
As changeless as the stars that shine above ; 
As fathomless as depths of throbbing sea ; 
As strong as love of life ; as vast, and free, 
As heav'n's expanse, and balmy, pulsing air ; 
And after all, 'twas but the semblance fair 
Of love's reality ! She grieved, 'tis true. 
And pain severe and real she sufiered, too. 
At life's first disappointment. Yet 'twas o'er 
Her broken dream, and shattered hope, far more 
Than sacrifice of love. 

She could not gaze 
On life with eyes the same as in the days 
Before her feet had entered love's sweet maze, - 
Before her mouth had felt the thrilling press 
Of manly lips in love's divine caress, 
Before she learned to suffer and be strong — 
Poor woman's bitter task — " but time wore on," 
Pain grew less sharp, affection slowly dimmed. 
And though a tint of sadness lurked within 



e6 BBOKEN DREAMS. 

The lovely eyes at times, and though his ring 
Still sparkled on her hand, and thoughts of liim 
Who fondly placed it there did oft recall — 
Kind, pleasant, loving recollections all — 
Smiles nestled in her buoyant heart again, 
And she had won the vict'ry over pain. 
Her absent friend was fondly thought of yet. 
But not with love's impassioned, sharp regret. 



Time still wore on ! October's mellow days 
Brought sorrow once again to Pansy Grey's 
True, tender heart. Her father, stricken down 
By fell disease, was hov'ring o'er the bounds 
Of vast Eternity. How full of grief 
Those weary days ! Tears bringing no relief 
To her o'er- burdened heart. She watched and wept 
Beside the suff'rer's couch, then sadly crept 
To where her mother dear lay moaning too, 
And fretting 'neatli her impotence to do 
For him she loved. 

Disease had lightly laid 
His heavy hand upon the loved one, played 
At first upon a single chord alone : 
The " harp of thousand strings " gave bitter moan, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 67 

And quickly snapped the chord beneath his touch. 

He tried another ! Lightly though he struck, 

That also broke. His hand still others swept ! 

He touched them gently, tenderly, and yet 

They snapped asunder too. The strings were worn, 

Or else too tightly tensioned. Sadly shorn 

Of beauty, music, grace, the broken harp 

Lay useless ! It had bravely done its part 

To cheer and soothe the weary, saddened hearts 

That came to it for music — softly played 

Its airs of joy or grief, and now it lay 

All broken, worthless, waiting for the Hand — 

The tender, loving Hand, at whose command 

Its sweetest melody was ever given — 

To gather up the broken strings, the riven. 

Shattered frame, and from the fragments make 

A finer, richer instrument, to take 

Its place within the heavenly choirs above. 

To vibrate evermore with airs of love 

And praise to Him whose gracious mercy wrought 

From such a wreck a harp the Master thought 

Deserving place in His divine abode. 

Poor Pansy watched with eyes all overflowed 



eS BROKEK DREAMS. 

With blinding tears, and heavy, aching heart, 
The tensioned strings snap one by one apart ; 
Watched with untiring patience, tender zeal, 
O'er both her sufferers. Saw slowly steal 
Across their threshold one whose shadow dark 
Sent dread and terror to her loving heart. 
And still the shadow near, and nearer stole. 
And dark and darker grew, and sadly told 
'Twas but the herald of approaching doom ; 
But the precursor of a guest, v/hich soon 
Would bend above that wasting, failing form. 
And freeze with icy kiss the lips yet warm 
With pulsing life, though crimsoned with the flush 
Of rosy fever, whose deceitful blush 
Flamed hot upon the hollow cheeks as well — 
The borrowed hue of blooming, robust health. 

Would I could find some words in which to tell 
How nobly was the hidden pow'r and wealth 
Of Pansy's heart, by sorrow's discipline 
Developed ! How sublime the strength within 
The nature of that fair young lovely girl. 
One almost felt an angel's wings were furled 



BROKEN DREAMS. 69 

Beneath the dainty robes that clothed that form 
So slight and girlish, as she tasks performed 
"Which weaker natures must have siink beneath. 
The nightly watchers many blessings breathed 
On that fair child, who, with such tender care, 
Not only watched the suff'rer lying there. 
And all her mother's wants supplied, but spared 
No efforts for the comfort of the friends 
Who eased her nightly vigils. To the end 
A ministering angel bent above 
That couch of pain, and with untiring love, 
The numberless requirements of the hour 
Fulfilled with steady hand. 

The wondrous power 
Of woman's stern endurance, who can show ? 
It seems unlimited. No one can know 
Her nature's vast resources 'till the time 
Of trial comes, and then how grand, sublime, 
The strength with which she meets the pending doom ! 

Death nigher drew ! and in the night's black noon 
Bent low above the couch where Pansy knelt ; 
His presence chill the silent suff'rer felt, 



YO BROKEN DREAMS. 

And as He lower bent, and whispered " come ! " 
A smile seraphic wreathed the lips now dumb, 
And in a sigh ecstatic ebbed the breath. 
" Flown on the wings of rapture I Is this death ? " 




BEOKEN DEEAMS 



BOOK FOURTH. 



" Father of Love, 
An erring child yearns to be blest ; 
Within Thy house to be at rest, 
No more to rove 1 " 



' And some we trusted with a fond believing, 
Have turned and stung us to the bosom's core ; 
And life hath seemed but as a vain deceiving. 
From which we tm-n aside, heart sick and sore." 

Mrs. Chandler. 




Broken Dreams 



look JfflMrtfe 



The midnight of the year again had come ! 
Tired Nature doflfed her garments one by one. 
And went to rest ! to slumber 'till the sun 
Of Spring's sweet morning should again awake 
The weary sleeper, who had been arrayed 
In snowy night-robe by the loving hand 
Of careful Winter, while at his command 
The winds of Autumn lullaby had sung, 
'Till over wearied Nature had been flung 
The night's white garments, and sweet Sleep had come, 
Silenced her rills of laughter, rendered dumb 
Her voice, which in such happy songs* had rung 



74 BROKEN DREAMS. 

All through the year's glad noon, and hushed to calm 
The lullaby of Autumn's evening psalm. 

So Winter comes ! and hark ! his frosty air 
Is burdened with the aroma of prayer ! 
His pure white robe, fresh from Earth's Monarch's hand, 
Seemed bringing in its folds a breath of bland 
And subtle perfume from the Great White Throne, 
Around which clouds of incense sweet are thrown 
From golden censers rare. It seemed as though 
The loving Christ had kissed the snowy robe, 
And left thereon the fragrance of His breath ! 
For when it came, so close on Autumn's death, 
A shower of love divine from Jesus' heart 
Attended it, to joy and peace impart 
To weary, sin-tossed souls. Who would be blest. 
Stood 'neath the fragrant show'r, and found sweet rest, 
As on Ms sinful soul the crimson rain 
From Christ's cleft heart, so freely, sweetly came, 
And washed the guilty one from sin's dark stain, 
Imparting balm for every grief and pain. 

Heav'n's shining throngs were happy in those days ; 
The jewelled courts all rang with song and praise. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 75 

As watching angels joyfully proclaimed 
Another soul redeemed from Satan's reign ; 
Another rebel reconciled to God, 
Whose feet had left destruction's paths so broad ; 
Another heart restored to Him who gave 
His precious life to save us from the grave 
Of dark despair, and everlasting night, 
And fit us for a home of love and light. 
And on the air which bore the blessing down. 
Came floating back the welcome, joyful sound 
Of prayer and praise to Him whose gracious love 
Had sent such wondrous mercy from above. 

A fair young girl stretched out an eager hand 
To catch the falling drops, the thirsty land 
So quickly swallowed. Should the grateful shower 
Of Love divine not touch her in an hour. 
When to the sweet and purifying power 
The precious drops contained, so many hearts 
Were yielding ? Should the ruby draught impart 
To her alone no happiness and joy ? 
And should she any means leave unemployed 
To catch the falling blessing? Innocent 
And pure she was, in action, thought, intent. 



76 BROKEN DREAMS. 

As erring liuman nature well can be, 
And yet slie sought for deeper purity : 
Readied out her hand and bent her lovely head, 
That on her Christ's compassion might be shed, 
And humbly prayed, " Forgive and bless e'en me, 
Dear Lord, my God ! " Her Saviour heard her plea. 
Bent down and took her in His tender arms, 
Soothed gently the repentant heart's alarms. 
Whispered of hope and love, bade fears to cease, 
And pressed the trembling lips with kiss of peace. 

How sweet her life thus suddenly had grown ! 
How deep the peace which to her heart had flown ! 
How pure, complete, the joy that nestled there ! 
This earth had surely grown more passing fair 
Than e'er before, since on the winding stair 
That leads to Jesus' mansions, she her foot 
So timidly had placed, one loving look 
Of sweet forgiveness from those eyes divine. 
Thus hoping to obtain — to taste the wine 
Of boundless love her Saviour's tender hand 
Should press to eager lips. How full and grand 
Her wishes' sweet fulfilment ! she'd not dreamed 
Of half the bliss which that one loving beam 



BROKEN DREAMS. Y7 

Of full forgiveness would on her bestow ; 

What deep, abiding joy and peace would flow 

All through the draught that she so longed to quaff. 

The river rippled by with merrier laugh, 
The golden sunlight shone with brighter gleam, 
The virgin snow more pure and lovely seemed, 
The heav'ns bent down with clearer, bluer depths. 
And e'en the clouds which sometimes o'er it swept. 
Seemed tinged with roseate hues. Her old-time friends 
Had grown more loved and loving. Wonder, then. 
That life looked very bright, how can we ? When 
Each pleasure ^as enhanced, and every grief 
Was softened by the sweet and full relief 
Her Saviour's words of pardon had bestowed. 
When with His love her tender heart o'erflowed. 
What could she henceforth fear, while such true arms 
Were shielding her from all life's rude alarms ? 
She gave all issues into His dear hands, 
And lovingly obeyed His wise commands. 



The speeding months which in her heart and life 
Had wrought such changes, were with others rife. 



78 BROKEN DREMIS. 

It would not be supposed that one so fair, 

So worthy homage, with a nature rare 

And strong and sweet as hers, would long remain 

Unsought, unwooed, though wooing might be vain. 

The place left vacant by her absent friend 

Ere long was occupied. Vacation's end 

Brought the return of one who long had gazed 

With wishful eyes on Pansy's lovely face. 

And hailed with joy proud Sumner's late defeat. 

However Pansy grieved, her laugh rang sweet 

And clear as ever, when with others met 

In social gathering. No sharp regret 

Betrayed itself in ringing voice, nor yet 

In laughing eye, or rounded, rosy cheek. 

And if of him some voice had chanced to speak 

"With careless words, no blush, nor tone, nor look, 

Betrayed the tremor that her heartstrings shook. 

For very proud was she, this little girl. 

And shrank from shelving to the curious world 

Her heart's emotions. 

Let me introduce 
Her present suitor, Mr. Henry Bruce ! 
A dark-haired, dark-eyed, stylish, proud young man. 
And yet unscrupulous in act or plan — 



BROKEN DEEAMSi T9 

From Gotham's tangled maze. His winning smile, 

And polished manner, tended to beguile 

All hearts from thoughts distrustful ; and was yet 

Too young to render very marked the depth 

Of cool deceit and vanity that slept 

Beneath that fine exterior. Those were, 

Perhaps, the worst points in his character, 

And circumstances yet had shown to few 
How quite unworthy was this youth of true 

And warm regard and confidence. 

He found 

It difficult for him to pass the bounds 

Of Pansy's maidenly reserve. Though gay 

And cordial ever, she had yet a way 

Of keeping him at distance, and in vain 

He sought the slightest favor to obtain. 

To other friends denied. 'Tis true, she marked 

His efibrts place to win within her heart. 

Nor saw it with displeasure ; yet impelled 

To hide her sanction of his suit, she felt. 

Though reason for it she would found it quite 

Impossible to give. And so with light 

And playful words she all advances met, 

And he was forced to own, in no respect 



80 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Did he in her regard advance a step, 
As far as he could see. 

Bright, leafy June, 
Blushing and fragrant with its wealth of bloom, 
Had brought her twentieth birthday ! Brought beside, 
A new, yet unknown friend, who on a tide 
Of anxious fear had floated to her heart. 
Encouragement and comfort to impart. 

Her brother Temple, some months since, had gone 
To visit Western friends. Weeks passed along. 
And having with some lads acquaintance made, 
Attending school where he his visit paid. 
He fancied he should like it to remain 
And enter on the school-roll there his name. 
And though his sister, and his mother both. 
To have him absent for so long, were loath. 
The wilful boy as usual won the day. 
And they at last consented to his stay. 
For scarce a month an inmate he had been 
Of " Ross Academy," and yet within 
So brief a space, his young and active limbs 
Were helpless stretched upon a couch of pain. 
And fever flushed his cheek, confused his brain, 
And sapped his youthful strength. 



BROKEN BREAMS. 81 

Day after day 
He called for Pansy, begging her to lay 
Her soft, cool hand upon his aching brow, 
To kiss the lips so hot and fevered now, 
And sing her weary boy to sleep once more. 
With kind and gentle hand, a man bent o'er 
The tossing boy, with patient, watchful care, 
He soothed the moaning suff'rer prostrate there. 
Paul Hart, a junior teacher in the school, 
The lads controlling with a gentle rule, 
An influence exerted over them, 
As rare as strong. Indeed, not many men 
Are better fitted for their place than he. 
And one with finer qualities we see 
But rarely. Yet, like every other man, 
He had his faults ; but as they did stand 
With prominence among his finer traits, 
He often credit won for higher rate 
Of merit than his character possessed. 
Tall, dark and handsome, pleasing in address, 
Obliging, able, educated, kind. 
His own sex placed him high 'mong men of mind, 
The other — well, they spoiled him some, I fear, 
Fkished with delight whenever he came near, 



82 BEOKEN DBEAM8, 

Courted and flattered him as women will, 
And he received their homage sweet, until 
He ranked his power of pleasing quite too high, 
And much of fascination lost thereby ; 
At least with any who by chance descried 
His self-conceit and vanity and pride. 

Young Temple's heart he instantly had won ; 
The man and boy fast friends had soon become ; 
And when the lad lay tossing in the grasp 
Of fiery fever, while his strength ebbed fast, 
Each day more painful growing than the last. 
He begged his teacher, — who, witli tender care 
And gentle touch, did ne'er an effort spare 
To ease and soothe the restless, fretful boy — 
To write to Pansy, leaving unemployed 
No argument that should by chance avail 
To bring his sister thither, or prevail 
Upon his invalid mamma, consent 
To give to Pansy's coming. Therefore went 
A letter East, the tidings to convey. 
Of Temple's illness. 

Paul forebore to say 
How much the boy her presence had besought, 
From feeling that indeed he scarcely ought 



BROKEN DBEAM8. 83 

To urge her coming thitlierj while at home 
Her presence was required. So while he owned 
That Temple was quite ill, assured her, too, 
He was not dangerous, and he should do 
With pleasure everything that could conduce 
Unto his comfort, or would be of use 
In his recovery promoting. 

" Thus," 
To this he added, ''you will not, I trust. 
Consider it imperative to come, 
If aught demands your presence at your home." 

So pleasingly he wrote, expressing, too. 
So much of sympathy and kindness true. 
Assuring them that he would write each day 
While Temple ill remained, that Mrs. Grey's 
Warm, mother heart was won without delay. 
And Pansy was desired to write and say 
How deeply grateful were they for his kind 
Attention to their absent boy. As time 
Passed slowly on, and Temple Grey remained 
Still prostrate on his couch of fevered pain, 
And every day its kindly message brought. 
To ease the anxious fears with which was fraught 



84 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Each troubled morn, they came to think of him 

As one who evermore must hold within 

Their hearts a warm and lofty place. So when 

The boy his usual health and strength again 

Kecovered, and the daily letters ceased. 

They missed them much. And therefore 'twas with 

pleased 
Surprise that Mrs. Grey perused one eve 
A note that Pansy handed her, received 
In one to her from Temple, wherein he 
Had urged in his imperious way that she 
Would grant his friend's request contained within 
The note in his inclosed. 

Paul wrote he'd been . 
So pleased with Pansy's letters to the lad. 
Which, having been obliged to read, he had, 
Far more than he could say, their coming missed, 
And begged that she would grant his earnest wish — 
Of course providing Pansy gave consent — 
And though a stranger think him still a friend, 
And give him kind permission to address 
Miss Grey in correspondence. For the rest, 
He offered ref 'rence of the highest kind. 
Did she require, to satisfy hei- mind 



BROKEN DREAMS. 85 

As to his standing, honor, character; 
A.nd hoped his love for one so dear to her 
4 s was her boy, would better plead his cause 
Than aught beside, regardless of the laws 
Of strictest etiquette, which might forbid 
Such correspondence. 

On the whole, he did 
With so much manliness and frankness write, 
That Mrs. Grey, though in such matters quite 
As scrupulous as mothers often are. 
Yet grateful for his kind and watchful care 
Beside the couch of her dear absent son, 
Felt she could not deny this boon to one 
Who'd surely proved himself a friend in need ; 
And though jMiss Pansy long demurred, indeed, 
At last a fe,vorable reply was sent. 
And correspondence speedily commenced. 

Who does not know the shortest road to find 
A mother's heart, is through attention kind, 
And fondness for the child she loves. A claim 
Paul now possessed he could not urge in vain. 
Therefore the ease with which his point was gained. 



8Q BROKEN DREAMS. 

Fine letters did he write, and I must own 
That his was not the benefit alone, 
Or jDleasure in the correspondence thus 
Begun. She taught him hope, and faith, and trust ; 
Set up for him — unconsciously although — 
Of womanhood a higher standard ; showed 
Her nature's fairest, sweetest side to him, 
Until her image he enshrined Avithin 
His mind as noblest of her sex. He, too, 
Taught her new admiration for a true 
And elevated manhood. Both, indeed. 
For each too high a standard raised ; and lead 
To disappointment, that perforce must do. 
The romance threw a strong enchantment, too, 
Around this letter-intercourse. Though both 
To own how deep the charm lay would been loath, 
The bounds of friendship still were not o'erstepped, 
And Mrs. Grey each letter did inspect. 
Books, music, art, the topics of the day, 
Were all discussed, thus bringing into play 
Their knowledge, powers of reas'ning, feeling, thought, 
While each some new and fine ideas brought 
T' enrich the other's store. 



BROKEN DREAMa. 87 

Thus matters stood, 
When over hill and vale, and mead and wood. 
The misty splendor of the Summer's noon 
Again was brooding ! 

August's golden moon 
Smiled brightly on the little hill-girt town, 
When from his school-home Henry Bruce came down 
The night before commencement day, to pay 
A parting visit to Miss Pansy Grey. 
Just as another, nobler one had come, 
But two years since, to this sweet village home. 
To-night it was the wily youth's intent 
To ascertain, if might be, the extent 
And warmth of Pansy's tenderness for him ; 
In what bright colors had his face been limned 
Within the pretty maiden's guileless heart. 
And this he hoped to do, while on his part 
He carefully abstained from saying aught 
That should himself commit. He vainly thought 
That she could not resist the tender art 
He meant to use : but she was on her guard, 
And he that night her presence left, as wise 
As when beneath his gaze her purple eyes 



88 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Had drooped as lie inclosed her offered liand 
That eve in greeting. Thus the heartless man 
Was foiled, and by a simple country girl, 
Whose heart he meant to play with, ere the world 
Of folly, fashion, flirting, pride, deceit, 
He entered. 

Let us for a moment peep 
WithiQ the floating curtains of the room, 
Aflood with radiance of the rising moon, 
Fragrant with balmy breath of summer flowers. 
Where sit the twain. Sweet as the lovely hour 
The lovely girl doth seem, clad, like the night 
In robes of darkness, which her beauty bright 
Do but enhance. The casement open wide, 
The little rocker, closely drawn beside. 
Wherein she sits in careless, graceful ease, 
Her dark curls floating in the gentle breeze 
Pregnant with od'rous sweetness, and the eyes. 
Within whose purple depths so sweetly hides 
The dawning smile that wreathes the lips of rose, 
And on the sunny, piquant face bestows 
An archness quite enchanting — all completes 
A picture, in whose every outline speaks 



BROKEN DREAMS. 89 

A purity and loveliness, tlie man 

Who lounges on a sofa near at hand, , 

Impossible doth find it to withstand. 

And with an earnestness quite new to him. 

His heart is pulsing, while there lurks within 

His eyes so dark, a tenderness more deep 

And pure, than often through his being leaps. 

And trembles through his utt'rance when he speaks. 

" Pansy, come sit beside me ! " he exclaims. 
She laughs for answer, in her seat remains. 

"Come, Pansy!" 

*' No ! why should I ? " she replies, 
While roguish smiles dance in the lovely eyes — 
" I like my place — this chair is very nice, 
And distance gives an added charm besides." 

" Not always * distance doth enchantment lend,' " 
He quickly made reply; " Come hither, then ! " 
And rising, crossed the room, and took her hand. 
With gentle force, and playful, fond command. 
Compelled the girl his wishes to obey — 
She laughingly remonstrant all the way — 



90 BROKEN DREAMS. 

And on tlie sofa gently seated her, 
Then playfully forbidding her to stir, 
Close at her side sat down. 

"Sit off!" she says, 
" I have not room ; beside, you'll spoil my dress. 
I've left my fan upon the window-sill, 
'Tis very warm back here ! " 

« Oh no ! sit still, 
I'll bring your fan," to this he quick replies, 
As Pansy makes a vain attempt to rise. 
The fan is brought, and Bruce his seat resumes; 
Awhile sits at the farther end, but soon 
Miss Grey again complains of want of room. 

" Pansy, I here remain one day alone. 
And then I'm through with school, am going home ; 
To not return unless you bid me come : 
Will you not miss me ? tell me, pretty one ! " 

" Miss you ? oh no, why sliould I ! " she returns, 
Although with deeper flush her soft cheek burns. 

He takes her hand, toys with her floating hair. 
Her pink cheek smooths, plays with the chain she wears, 



BROEEJSr BREA3I8. 91 

Then asks, " Are you like other women fair, 
With petting pleased ? " 

She laughs, shakes off his hand, 
" Oh that depends ! " replies. " You understand 
It makes a diff'rence as to who's the man." 

" Why, Pansy ! don't you love me ? tell me true." 

Shy droop the eyes to hide the tender hue 
That sparkles in the depths of lustrous blue, 
Yet saucily she answers still : " Love you f 
Oh no ! why sliould I ? " 

Henry bit his Kp 
In sharp vexation that this girl should slip 
Adroitly thus through all the efforts made 
To read her soul. To find that she betrayed 
Not once, her love for him, if such might sleep 
Within her heart, whose current flushed her cheek 
With such a warm, bright hue. She foiled thus far 
His mean, ungen'rous purposes, and mar 
His wily plans she still continued to, 
With laughing repartee the evening through. 

The utmost that he gained was this : when late 
They stood beside the little rustic gate. 



92 BROKEN DREAMS. 

And lie his leave was just about to take, 

He said : " Well, Pansy, bid me now good-by, 

But first, to one inquiry give reply : 

If I, on reaching home, to you shall write, 

May I expect an answer ? Once, to-night, 

Say ' yes,' ray dear, and let me go away 

With hopes we may, at some not distant day. 

Meet once again. Shall it be ' yes ? ' oh say ! " 

A moment she in silence stood, bent down 
Her lovely eyes in thought upon the ground. 
Then softly said : " Perhaps ! I cannot tell ; 
I'll think 'till then about it. Eare-thee-well ! 
And if it be forever, still /areiyeW." 

She gave her hand ; he took it, held it fast 
In both of his with strong and tender clasp, 
Stooped down and printed on her crimson lips, 
With eager press, a warm, impassioned kiss, 
So suddenly that she was not aware 
Of his intent, until 'twas burning there : 
And then without a word he turned away. 
And vanished from her sight with short delay. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 93 

Weeks passed along, but still no letter came ! 
And Pansy questioned heart and brain in vain, 
The reason for his silence to explain. 
At first with frequence she recalled the eve 
Last spent with him, refusing to believe 
But in his truth and honor, though the while, 
That she had not allowed him to beguile 
From her that night, confession of regard, 
She felt most grateful. But at last her heart 
Was forced to own that she had been deceived, 
As time still swept along, and she received 
No tidings, and in calmer mood recalled 
The fact that while that eve employing all 
His powers, from her acknowledgment to win 
Of preference or strong regard for him, 
He yet with care abstained from giving her 
A like assurance. Such thoughts could but stir 
Her heart with indignation and disgust, /' ~ 

For one who would have won her girlish trust. 
But to betray it when it once was gained. 
And thankful did she feel she'd been restrained 
By her coquettish mood, from giving him 
The paltry triumph he had hoped to win. 



94: BROKEN DREAMS. 

And yet, with heart all sore, and sad, and pained, 
She from a world that seemed so cold and vain. 
So vile, deceitful, heartless, turned aside 
"With loathing and disgust. With haughty pride 
Repelled for long, each tender fond advance 
From those who gladly would improved a chance 
To show her that the world e'en yet contained 
Some nobleness and truth, though such a vain 
And heartless wretch as Bruce it still might hold. 
She would not thus be taught ; but turned with cold 
Distrust from any cast in manly mould. 

How glad she felt that he could not be there, 
To note with triumph how her cheek so fair. 
Had paled beneath the bitter lesson taught 
By one who had in every manner sought 
Her love to win. Glad they were not to meet. 
Until with steady eye and changeless cheek. 
She could return his greeting. Show to him. 
That his her heart had never truly been. 

In woman's book of fate for her was turned 
One more sad leaf. Another lesson learned 
In disappointment and the world's deceit. 
Which left upon her mind an impress deep. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 95 

And yet, amid it all, she realized 

Her heart was still intact. Saw, with surprise, 

His image quickly vanish from her mind, 

Although it left a stinging pain behind. 

Ah ! pretty child, much crushing hearts will bear 

Before they yield to remed'less despair. 

But yet eacli blow can but assist to crush 

Their vital and elastic force. 

And thus, 
With tear-dimmed eyes, and cheeks that bore no flush, 
She saw her dream lie broken in the dust. 
And with it shattered faith, and hope, and trust. 




BEOKEK DREAMS 



BOOK FIFTH. 



' Away, away 1 The dream is vain , ^ 

Still wear, as best you may, the chaia 
Your own hands forged about your fate." 

Owen Meredith. 



"Thus one by one our idols faU, 
Just as the snow-flakes in the river." 




Broken Dreams 



§0oh Jfiflfe 



Again had Aiitumn's fruits been gathered in, 
And wintry pleasures all enjoyed had been, 
Spring too had passed, with her unrivalled bloom, 
And given place to rosy, blushing June, 
When Pansy stood one eve beside the gate. 
In the dusk beauty of the twilight late. 
Her mourning robes had been exchanged for white. 
And fresh and pure gleamed through the veil of night. 
Her round, white arm, from which the lace-edged sleeve 
Had fallen back, by golden band relieved. 
Was resting on the gate in graceful ease. 
The hand her chin supporting, while a pleased, 



100 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Yet thoiiglitful smile inwreathed the scarlet mouth 
As sweet and ripe as fruits from sunny south, 
The shaded eyes in reverie bent down, 
And fixed unconsciously upon the ground. 

To-day the tidings came that Henry Bruce 
Was once again in town. The sudden news 
Had shown to Pansy how complete had been 
Her conquest over her regard for him ; 
How perfect was the self-control acquired ; 
Thanks to the indignation he'd inspired, 
And stronger feeling of intense disgust, 
At his entire unworthiness of trust. 
And so to-night, »while standing at the gate, 
Where they had parted when the hour grew late, 
One moonlit eve almost a year ago. 
Her thoughts rolled back, as swift as thoughts can flow, 
Reviewing all that since that lovely night 
To her had come ; and with a roguish light 
Within her soft eyes couchant, wondered now 
If they should meet each other, where, and how ; 
, If he would seek her presence, and if so. 
Debating what reception to bestow 
Upon her recreant lover. Let him know 



BROKEN DREAMS. 101 

How thoroughly had she detested him ? 
Treat him as if forgotten he had been ? 
Or like an old-time friend whom now she met 
With calm indifference, but no regret. 

While thus she mused, she heard a boyish step, 
And in a moment, standing by her side. 
Was one she in the dim light recognized 
A pupil from the Institute to be« 
He held a letter in his hand, which he 
At once presenting, said : " This note. Miss Grey, 
I bring from Mr. Bruce ; desired to say 
He sends it with his compliments. And I, 
If such your pleasure, wait for your reply." 

She hesitated for an instant, then 
The note she held returned to him again ; 
And saying, while with wide-dilated eyes 
The lad at her was staring in surprise : 
" My compliments to Mr. Bruce present. 
And take him back the note ! " She turned and went 
With careless step, and gay, untroubled air, 
Within the house, and left him standing there. 



X 



BROKEN DREAMS. 103 

Did not detract, but added beauty gave. 

Her heart's warm blood, in throbbing, crimson waves, 

Eusbed to her cheeks and there triumphant stayed, 

And with their whiteness all the evening jjlayed. 

As bright as scintillating stars, her eyes. 

And violet as winter's eastern skies, 

While in the west the sunset glory dies. 

In myriad curls low di'ooped her lovely hair, 

By snowy ribbon bound, and nestling there, 

Three pansies clustered, modest, sweet, and fair 

As was the girl who wore them. On her white 

Forefinger, sparkling in the brilliant light. 

Was Sumner's ring ; and as she placed it there, 

Remembered Bruce had never seen her wear 

The costly pledge — at first of happy love, 

And then of saddened friendship. 

Far above 
All others she in beauty stood— as queen" 
Of mirth and loveliness she reigned supreme 
All through the festive eve. As sweet and clear 
As chimes of silver bells upon the ear 
Her merry laughter fell, coquettish wiles 
And saucy repartee and witching smiles 



104 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Entranced all hearts ; and gayest of the gay, 
The bright eve through, was pretty Pansy Grey. 

Afar, her former suitor, Henry Bruce, 
Looked on, chagrined. He thought this eve to use 
Some of his world- won, fascinating art, 
To gain his old place in the girl's proud heart. 
Although so coolly she had sent him back 
The note to her a few days since dispatched. 
And once again was he obliged to own 
That he was foiled. Indeed, the fair queen's throne 
He found was difficult for him to reach, 
So very rarely there occurred a breach 
Within the circle where she held her court. 
And deeply ruing his attempt to sport 
In former days with this proud girl's young heart. 
Resolved that even yet, ere they should part. 
Some token of continued warm regard 
She should on him bestow, however hard 
The task might be to win it. 

Never yet 
Had he on woman looked with such regret. 
Such admiration, strong desire, and love. 
As now he gazed on her who seemed above — 



BROKEN DREAMS. 105 

Aye ! far beyond his reach. One whom he might, 
Except for his mad folly, held to-night, 
Within his arms, his cherished, promised bride. 
And he determined he would there abide 
Until the love so coldly thrown away 
Once more was his, and pretty Pansy Grey 
Her hanghty head should on his bosom lay, 
And while he placed upon that little hand 
The emblem of their troth, own liim the man 
She'd choose from all the world. 

At this he glanted 
To where she stood, and as her glove she'd chanced 
To just remove, the gleaming ring she wore 
Flashed back at him in language that was more 
Expressive than could any words have been, 
And that he'd been forestalled seemed telling him. 

When they, that evening early, first had met. 
She greeted him with graceful ease, and yet 
A certain dignified hauteur, quite new 
In his experience of the girl. 'Tis true, 
With him she chatted for awhile with grace, 
Smiles dimpling now and then her lovely face, 
5* 



IQQ BROKEN DREAMS. 

Was quite at ease, was cordial, pleasant, gay, 
Did not avoid him, still, in every way. 
Stowed her indifference to be profound ; 
And when he left the circle gathered 'round, 
And watched her from a distance, could but see 
She did not miss him, and that henceforth she 
His presence there did quietly ignore. 
And seemed as gay and happy as before. 
Right skilfully, indeed, Miss Pansy Grey 
The game had managed that she meant to play ! 



Days swiftly sped, and scarcely one passed by 
But that they met. With still unclouded eye, 
And graceful ease of manner meeting him, 
Then seeming to forget him, he had been 
As yet quite unsuccessful in his plans 
Fulfilling ; and at last the reckless man, 
Grown dosperate, and smarting with the pain 
Of loving madly one from whom he gained 
No token that his passion was returned. 
And which, on his part, yet more fiercely burned. 
The more it hopeless seemed, resolved to close 
The farce, and for her hand at once propose ; 



BROKEN BREAMS. 107 

kx\(\ thus the state of her affections learn, 
And if his love he ever could return. 

With this thought fired, at once he sought her side. 
And begged an interview. She opened wide 
Her lovely eyes in manifest surprise — 
Although in truth 'twas merely a disguise 
To hide the triumph throbbing at her heart 
At the success with which she'd played her part — 
But merely said in answer to his plea : 
" To-morrow eve I disengaged shall be, 
And will with pleasure then your call receive." 

He bowed, and with confusion said : "I leave 
On Monday next for home, and therefore thought, 
For sake of olden times, we surely ought 
One hour to spend together. I've, beside, 
Somewhat to say to you." 

" Yes ? " she replied, 
^' To-morrow eve, then ! " 

" Thanks ! Miss Grey. Good-night." 
And mth a bow he vanished from her sight. 
Lost in the crowd around him. 

Never yet, 
As in the weeks elapsing since they met, 



108 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Had Pansy been so charming, lovely, gay. 
O'er those around her exercised such sway ; 
While Bruce, for having madly thrown away 
A pri^e like this, his folly day by day 
More deeply cursed, and with the bands of love 
Became more firmly bound ; while far above, 
The star he fain would grasped, so sweetly shone, 
And seemed to be beyond his reach alone. 



The next day passed, and starry evening came ; 
And with it Mr. Bruce, with fevered brain. 
And heart on fire with love's despair and hope ; 
While Pansy, fresh and cool in summer robe 
Of dainty muslin, calmly met the man 
Who came to sue that evening for her hand. 



o 



But topics commonplace were broached at first, 
On music, books, and weather they conversed. 
And Pansy sang for him, at his request, 
With cheek unchanging, songs he loved the best 
Scarce one short year ago ; while all unrest, 
He leans on her piano while she plays, 
His clouded eyes fixed on her placid face ; 



BROKEN DREAMS. 109 

And when she paused, and then at him looked up 
With smiling archness, he, in tone abrupt, 
Exclaimed, with mirthless smile and troubled air, 
And gaze fixed on her sparkling solitaire : 
" Miss Grey, excuse me, what a lovely ring 
Is that you wear ! but may I ask one thing ? 
Does it, as one might fancy, indicate 
A bond not any man may hope to break ? " 

She blushed a little, smiled, looked down, and said, 
While lower drooped the lovely, proud young head : 
" As pledge of troth the ring was giv'n to me. 
Though yet I wear no other, as you see ! " 

The man beside her bit his haughty lip 
In sharp despair, as thus she seemed to slip 
Still farther from his reach ; while she sat there. 
Her flushed cheek hidden by her drooping hair, 
And on her lips a dreamy, happy smile. 
His presence seeming to forget the while. 

Filled to o'erflowing seems his bitter cup ! 
And in his heart the door of hope fast shut ! 
And when at last at him she glances up, 



110 BROKEN DREAMS. 

The dreamy smile still on her lip, with pain 

That seemed to rend his throbbing heart in twain, 

In bitter desperation he exclaims : 

" Oh, Pansy ! is there then no hope for me ? 

I love yon madly, wildly — hear my plea ! " 

He caught her hand ere she could turn away': 

" Oh give me some return, I beg, I pray ! 

Forgive the past, forget my folly mad. 

And to my heart come back again, come back ! 

Don't turn away so coldly — Pansy, love, 

Have you for me no pity, who above 

All others worships you ? When you alone 

Within my heart must ever be enthroned ? 

My queen, my heart's-ease, speak, I beg, command, 

And tell me mine shall be this precious hand. 

Have you no word for me ? oh Pansy, speak 1 " 

She drew her hand away ; her damask cheek 
Had paled to marble, and her violet eyes. 
That first were soft and blue with sad surprise, 
Now angrily in purple splendor flashed, 
While her indignant heart throbbed hard and fast, 
As he referred thus boldly to the past. 



BROKEN DREAMS. Ill 

Awhile, sweet Pity in her gentle heart 

Had reigned supreme, as it was plain the part 

That he rehearsed was earnestly sincere, 

And not mere acting as the previous year. 

But when of that time he reminded her, 

And back there rushed the feelings that had stirred 

In those sad days her heart's profoundest depths, 

And which recalled, brought anguish even yet. 

Resentment from her throne mild Pity swept. 

And she with scorn returned : 

" Release my hand I 
What word, think you, can I have for the man 
"Wlio scarce one year ago so coolly planned 

To gain from me — for mere amusement, too-r- 

Confession of regard for him, and who. 

By all the wiles, and base, seductive arts 

Known to his treach'rous sex, to win my heart 

Made every effort, with the vile intent 

To throw away the love that he had spent 

So much of talent, time, and art to win. 

And though, thank God, he failed, what words for him, 

I say, can Zhave, saving those of scorn, 

Of my contempt and detestation born ! 



112 BROKEN DREAMS. 

No ! Henry Bruce, the time has long gone by, 
When any bond can join ns, yon and I ! 
Once," and her tone gi'ew softer, " once, I say, 
You might have won the boon you crave to-day. 
Once I from all the world would chosen you ; 
You trifled with me ! proved how vain, untrue, 
Unworthy fond affection was your heart ; 
And now the love you'd fain to me impart •■ 

I scorn as much as him who offers it. 
Contempt has quenched the flame of love you lit, 
And only dead gray ashes now remain ! " 

She paused and glanced at him ; with fearful pain 
His lips were writhing, white as frost, his cheek. 
While in his eyes there darkly burned, and deep, 
The anguish of his slighted, hopeless love. 
And as she gazed, soft as a brooding dove's 
Became her lovely eyes, while in their depths 
Divine compassion slowly, sweetly crept. 

At last he spoke : " Have pity, oh, I pray ! 
Nor from my anguish coldly turn away ; 
* To err is human ; to forgive, divine ! ' 
Oh, pardon then this sad mistake of mine. 



BROKEN BREAMS. 113 

And let me go away, if go I must, 
Assured of your forgiveness, pity, trust. 
See ! here I kneel, your pardon to implore, 
Oh, look with kindness on me, love, once more. 
Think what my lot must henceforth be, deprived 
Of what alone could give a charm to life. 
Will not my fate sufficiently be hard, 
Without the cruel scorn of your dear heart ? 
Can you not pity me, forgive, forget. 
And let me have your friendship even yet, 
If I your priceless love must not expect ? " 

As sweet as softest trill of happy birds. 
Was Pansy's voice, and sweeter still her words, 
As stretching forth to him her dainty hand, 
She from the floor raised the despairing man. 

" Rise, Henry ! I forgive, forget ; no more 
Will I with scorn remember, what of yore 
Gave me such grievous pain. To-night blots out 
All errors of the past. I cannot doubt 
The truth of your repentance, and no less, 
The love sincere which you for me profess ; 
And I for pardon surely could not pray, 
If mine to you I should deny this day. 



114 BROKEN DREAMS, 

I therefore fully, freely, all forgive ; 
And trust that you this passion may outlive, 
And that a love more precious far than mine. 
Across your shadowed pathway soon may shine. 
Dear friend, God bless, protect, and comfort you, 
And be your guide life's weary journey through." 

She paused, then murmured soft: " Farewell, my 
friend ! " 
Upon his shoulder laid her hand, then bent 
And pressed with tender pity on his brow, 
"Where pain had left its traces even now. 
Her soft, pure lips ; then murmured once again, 
" Take comfort, Henry ; fare-thee-well, my friend ! '*' 

A door closed softly, and he stood alone ; 
And turning, sadly left the pretty home 
Of her he loved, no more to enter there. 
Where Hope had died in arms of pale Despair. 



Time took a step, and one more year was gone ! 
The vanished months had swiftly swept along. 
And brought not much of incident to those 
Of whom I wiite. Fall's harvests, Winter's snows. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 115 

Spring's blossoms, Summer's verdure, all had brought 
Their pleasures with them. Every season fraught 
With varied joys had been : and Autumn now 
Had placed upon the far-off mountain's brow 
A coronet of rubies ; whUe the plains, 
Long shorn of all their wealth of ripened grain, 
Were brown and sere, as if they ne'er had worn 
The verdant garment careless hands had torn 
From off their fruitful bosoms. 

Pansy Grey 
Had watched the days and months fast slip away, 
While no event disturbed the placid calm. 
Which o'er her heart had settled, since the man 
Who once had Lrifled with her, she had left 
Of all his hopes for love's return bereft. 
A sigh of pity shook her gentle breast, 
As slie remembered him who then addressed 
Such words of strong impassioned love to her. 
As hopeless too as deep, but could not stir 
Her heart with any answering thrill of fond 
Or sweet affection. He had slipped beyond 
The circle of her hopes, desires, and fears. 
And fi-om her life had vanished with the year. 



116 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Within the interval thus passed away, 
Yet other suitors had Miss Pansy Grey ! 
But let whoever would the girl approach, 
Her mother ever some objection broached. 
And all of them by turns had been dismissed. 
One — Charlie Strong — did for a time persist 
In his attentions to the pretty maid, 
And boldly, too, his preference displayed. 
How far between them matters had progressed, 
Before the crisis came, I must confess 
To tell I'm quite unable ; and but know. 
That on the night when came the final blow 
That parted them forever, Pansy wept 
The dark hours through, nor for a moment slept, 
Until the rosy fingers of the dawn. 
Plucked off" the golden stars from Heaven's lawn, 
Night's ebon casket shutting fast within, 
The gems whose splendor coming day had dimmed. 
Thus vanished one by one her dreams away. 
And all her idols soon in ruin lay. 

Not all, as yet ! one friend she still possessed. 
And deemed him ever truest, noblest, best. 



BROKEN' DREAMS. 117 

Torn as her heart was oftentimes, in truth, 

With disaiDpointment sharp, from which her youth 

Had never served to shield her, she to him 

Turned ever, as to one who held within 

His nature depths of truth and nobleness, 

Not many of his faithless sex possess ; 

And also felt assured, not any test 

Would prove him aught but manliest and best. 

Her correspondence with her friend Paul Hart, 
Was still in progress ; and, on either part, 
With yet increasing pleasure carried on : 
While from it an attachment strong as fond. 
And confidence entire as rare, had sprung. 
No misconceptions jarring chords had rung, 
Misunderstandings were as yet unknown. 
And harmony and trust each missive toned. 
Were either troubled ? they had but to speak, 
And back there came a sympathy as sweet. 
As perfect and sincere. Were either glad ? 
The other also joyed ; and thus there had 
Between them come to be, of feeling, thought, 
And purpose, harmony complete. Both sought 



118 BBOKEN DBEAMS. 

The other's pleasure in each word they wrote, 
While back again each joy conferred did float. 

Perhaps no better could I now explain 
The terms on which they stood when Autumn came, 
The year to which I've heretofore referred. 
Than here to give an extract, word for word. 
Of one of Paul's epistles to Miss Grey, 
Received by her the previous month of May. 

" The week is closing as I take my pen 
To write to you, my treasured, dearest friend ; 
"With fears you are, by my compelled delay, 
A disappointed little girl to-day. 
My being absent for a week will show 
Why I'm delinquent ; yet you surely know 
I would not thus delay to write to you. 
Did circumstances not compel me to. 

" This is my birthday ! and I speak of it 
With melancholy pleasure, I admit, 
If not with sadness, still with some regret 
My life has borne so little fruit as yet ; 
That twenty-seven years I've lived — for what ? 
Kot wholly, I believe and hope, for naught. 



BROKEN BREAMS. 119 

Nor yet without a purpose ; still, to feel 

So little I've accomplished, can but steal 

The charm with which the future might been rife 

If circumstances in my early life 

Had but been diff'rent. Still, no cause, perhaps, 

Have I to thus complain. Those who in laps 

Of luxury and tender ease are reared, 

Advantages possessing year by year. 

That Z could only dream of, after all 

Have not much better done. 

" But to recall 

My past life in this letter, farther back 
Than doth extend the happy, golden track 
Of our acquaintance, was not my intent. 
Two years will soon have vanished since I sent 
To you my first epistle ; op'ning thus 
A correspondence which has been to us 
So pleasant ! Has it not, dear ? for I trust 
The joy it gives has not been mine alone. 
And looking backward at the years now flown, 
Among the scenes of which sweet Pansy's held 
A place most prominent, can on them dwell 
Without e'en one regret. And that is more 
Than I can say of all my life before. 



120 BROKEN DREAMS. 

How pleasant other scenes perchance have been, 

A tinge of sorrow or regret within 

Their mem'ry ever lurks. Not thus with you ! 

The current of my thoughts, when to my view 

Your face arises, seen in fancy's light. 

Is placid as has been the surface bright, 

Of our majestic Mississippi, when 

Upon its banks I've stood, as o'er it bent 

The glory of a southern sunset sky, 

And as I watched the waters gliding by. 

Of you in pleasant reverie have thought. 

" This for the past and present ! No less fraught 
With joy, the future looms before me ; fears 
For it I have none ! Mayhap not for years. 
Perchance ere this one dies, our hands shall meet 
In friendly clasp, and we, my sister sweet. 
Shall know each other better far than those 
Who daily meeting, rarely yet disclose 
To each their inner self, though oft revealed 
In correspondence such aS ours. I feel 
That had we met in fashion's haunts alone, 
Or e'en in daily life, we could not known 



BROKEN DREAMS. 121 

Each other's truest self one half so well 
As now we do. 

" My pen must fail to tell 
What you have been to me ! Nor can I help 
The thought our intercourse has been to us 
A mutual benefit ; for each, I trust, 
Is better for the other having known. 
I'm sure that either, if the truth were owned, 
Sees nothing to regret, save that no more 
To smooth the other's path, oft shadowed o'er 
By heavy clouds, we had the power to do. 
Is it not so ? Have we not been of true 
And sincere friends, the truest, dearest, best? 
Models of harmony ? and for the rest, 
Examples proving true the theory 
That friendship 'tween the sexes there may be ? 
I think so ! I am much attached to you, 
And place the most entire reliance, too, 
On your sincerity and kind regard. 

" So be the time that keeps us far apart 
Or long or short — if we shall meet before 
Another birthday comes, or when a score 
6 



122 BROKEN DUEAMS. 

Have passed away, oh let us still remain, 
As now, controlled by friondsliip's silken rein, 
The while th(>se silent niossongcu's shall keep 
Our spirit love alive until wo meet. 
And see each other face to face at last." 

This, of the letters which for two years past 
Had weekly come to Pansy from her friend, 
A fair examjile was. But now the end 
Was swiftly drawing nigh. Acquaintance, sure. 
Must bring some change ; resolve thtdr iViendship, pure, 
Into a warmer sentiment, or leave 

Them less than friends. Whato'or thaj niiglit believe, 
'Twas simply quite impossible they cindd 
Komain the same. 

So when the distant wood 
Put on the royal robes fair Autunni brought. 
And blushed in fevered beauty, which was naught 
But premonitions of approaching death, 
And chilly blew the coming Winter's breath, 
A letter brought tho tidings to Miss Grey, 
That Paul would be with her the foll'wing day. 

Fast beat Miss Pansy's pulses when at last 
His ring awoke the echoes, and she passed. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 123 

With short delay, to imsot lK3r unknown friend. 

A moment pausing for composure, then 

The door she opened, and Ixyforo her stood 

The visitor expected. N(;iiliei- could 

At first liav(5 spoken! Silent holli i-ouiained 

An instant only, tluiii iho one exclainjod 

"Tansy!—" the otlier '' Mr. J tart!—" tlicir hands 

Were clasped in greeting, and as Paul advanced, 

Ho saw a girlish figure full of grace, 

In trailing ])ur|)le rolx'S, from which a face 

All pui'ity and sweetness loomed above — 

A girl he thought just fitted to be loved — 

And she, a man tall, dark, with noble form, 

Whose joy at meeting in the hand-clasp warm, 

And kindly glances of his handsome eyes, 

Was plainly spoken. 

Each to realize 
The fact th(!y were at last together, found 
It diHicult indeed ; — they half seemed bound 
By sleep's enchantment, and the present scene 
A play enacted in the land of dreams. 
Each to the other seemed a stranger, yet 
Like old-time friends as well. In all resi)ects 



124 BROKEN DBEAM8. 

They felt a freedom only friends can claim, 
The while a sense of strangeness gave restraint. 

"When they the parlors reached, Paul turned again, 
And holding out his hand exclaimed : " My friend, 
You look just like yourself! just what I deemed 
Would Pansy be!" 

" Yes ? " she returned, while streamed 
The rich blood to her fair, soft cheek, " And you 
Are somewhat like my fancy of you too ! " 

And later, when beneath the brilliant lights 
Which on them fell with radiance soft and bright, 
They stood, he said again : " To be with you 
Seems very natural ; and though 'tis true, 
Your pictures do not give tlie justice due 
To your attractions, you are very like 
Them truly, and converse just as you write. 
Nor am I disaj^pointed yet, in aught ! 
I find you much more charming than I thought." 

But Pansy felt she could not say the same ! 
The photograph that with his first note came. 
Had flattered him exceedingly, and. he 
Was far less pleasing than she deemed he'd be. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 125 

His twenty-seven years not lightly sat 
Upon his broad, high brow : and few, in fact, 
But would have added ten years more to that. 
Had they his age attempted to divine. 
While on his fine, dark face, full many a line 
Of care or pain had deeply been impressed. 
His eyes, the finest feature he possessed, 
Were very handsome ; yet one never knew 
If they were black or gray, or brown or blue. 
They neither were, in fact, but all by turns. 
Dark-haired, full-bearded, and a mouth, if stern 
Or flexible, the long mustache concealed ; 
But when a smile his fine white teeth revealed 
And lighted up his eyes, his face became 
Transformed, and owned a subtle charm, 'twere vain 
Attempting to resist. 

His manner, too. 
Though deferent, and pleasing, it is true, 
Quite gentlemanly ever, and suave. 
Still lacked the polish she had deemed 'twould have. 

Thus was the lovely, but fastidious girl, 
E'en 'mid the tremulous, exciting whirl 



126 BROKEN DREAMS. 

In whicli liis coming had her senses thrown, 
Obliged, although reluctantly, to own 
That far below the standard she had reared 
He surely fell. While she to him appeared 
Tar more attractive than he deemed she would ; 
More young and fair, more lively, sweet and good. 

In pleasant chat the evening passed away ; 
And one would not have thought they met that day 
As strangers, so entirely all restraint 
Was thrown aside. 

Paul's letters all contained 
As many fond, endearing terms as might 
Have been bestowed upon his promised bride. 
'' My treasure," "pet," " my spoiled child," and the like. 

In fact, in every manner did he pet her, 
That any one could possibly by letter ; 
And though Miss Pansy scarcely felt inclined 
To grant him favors in so short a time, 
Paul so accustomed was to give to her 
Such tender words, so oft his heart had stirred 
In sweet anticipation of the day 
When they at last should meet and throw away 



BROKEN DREAMS. 127 

All barriers of restraint, now tliat tlie time 

So longed for had arrived, he seemed to find 

It hard to recollect he had no right 

To be to her as tender as he liked — 

To take her in his arms he strongly wished, 

Nor scarcely that temptation could resist. 

Once bending forward, he her crimson cheeks 
Smoothed softly, gazed within her eyes so deep, 
Then said : " Oh, I expect— " 

He did not close 
The sentence, adding then : "I don't suppose 
You like, my dear, for me to pet you much ! " 
As Pansy seemed to shrink beneath his touch. 

She laughed, and while she pushed his hand away, 
Returned : " Please finish what you meant to say ! 
What is it ? you expect — " she paused — 

« I fear," 
He finished for her : " Now at last I'm here, 
That I shall spoil you worse than ever, dear ! " 

" Perhaps I shall not let you ! " she replied. 
Yet even after this she felt surprised, 



128 BROKEN DREAMS. 

When, later in the evening, Paul exclaimed : 
" YouVe not fulfilled your promise! " 

" Please explain ; 
I do not understand ! " Miss Grey replied. 
" To what do you refer? " She opened wide 
Her eyes, and looked at him for explanation, 
When he, to her surprise, and consternation, 
With sudden act bent forward, and his head 
Against her rocker resting, softly said : 
" My sister sweet, you told me if I came. 
That I a kiss from those soft lips might claim." 

But Pansy, slightly shrinking, turned away 
Her face, and laughing shortly, answered : " Nay ! 
My meaning you mistook ! I recollect 
I said I should not, nor must you expect 
From me such favors. Do not you recall 
I told you, very nice indeed that all 
Might be to talk of, with a thousand miles 
Between us intervening all the while ? 
Did I not ask you also what you'd think 
Of any lady who would fail to shrink 
From giving such caresses to a man 
Almost a stranger ? " 



BROKEN DREAMS. 129 

Paul took up her hand 
And raised it to his lips without reply. 

The evening hours passed very fleetly by, 
And when they were about to say good-night, 
He took her hands in tender clasp, if light, 
Then said : " Dear Pansy, you are good, I know ! " 

" Indeed, you do not ! time alone will show 
To you how good I am," she laughing said ; 
And then — " I think I have no foes ; instead, 
Am sure that many friends and true, I claim." 

" You always have been, and will still remain, 
I trust, the dearest friend 7" ever had ! " 

Then softly Pansy answered : " I am glad ! 
I always wanted to be first, you know ! " 

" I know it, yes ! " he said. 

" Now I must go ! 
Good-night, Paul ; pleasant dreams be yours, and sweet. 
Until the morning comes, when we shall meet ! " 
6* 



130 BROKEN DBEAMS. 

" Good-night, my sister ! " with a lingering clasp, 
The two soft hands he held released at last. 
And their first eve together all was past. 



In loveliness Tinrivalled dawned the mom, 
And seemed a day from early spring-time bom ! 
Pansy and Paul the forenoon spent alone, 
And both to see how swift the hours had flown 
Were quite astonished. Pleasant, lively chat 
On books and persons, places, and, in fact, 
On any topic chancing to be broached. 
Was interspersed with music, 'till approached 
The hour for breaking all the morning's fast. 
And when the mid-day meal at length was past, 
The sunny fingers of the perfect day 
So sweetly beckoned them to come away, 
That they prepared the summons to obey. 

Although with hasty fingers Pansy made 
Her walking toilet, still she felt afraid 
That Paul would think her very long away, 
And quite impatient get at her delay. 
But when at last she hastened down the stair, 
She found him lounging in an easy chair, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 131 

Perusing quietly the pretty scene 
Which ends the " Golden Legend ; " in his mien 
A sign of nothing save content supreme. 
And as against his chair Miss Pansy leaned, 
And drawing on her gloves looked o'er his book, 
He only paused to give her one fond look, 
And slipping 'round her slender waist his arm, 
Read on as if he knew no other charm 
Than that the book afforded ; while his heart 
The sweetness felt in every hidden part 
Which in the tender, willing contact dwelt. 
And as to Pansy, I'm afraid she felt 
The subtle, tingling pleasure scarcely less, 
And yielded to it more, I must confess. 
Than should a model woman. 

Ne'ertheless, 
As I have sometime since with frankness owned, 
What also I herein have often shown, 
That Pansy Grey, my heroine, was not 
By any means perfection, trust that what 
I've freely written of the girl's defects 
Will not, my reader, lessen your respect. 

All women are but frail, and weaker still 
The other sex in principle and will. 



132 BROKEN DREAMS. 

In every one is some weak point revealed, 

And tempted there they're almost sure to yield. 

And woman, though the frailer sex she's called, 

Is still expected to resist in all 

The strong temptations that may her befall ; 

While he who offers them has ne'er a thonffht 

Of like resistance, or that there is aught 

Of obligation on himself imposed, 

To shield poor woman from the subtle foes, 

To whose beguiling wiles she's oft exposed. 

Instead of guarding with his very life 
Her truth and purity, to bitter strife 
Himself subjects her tender, loving heart; 
Employing all the fascinating art 
That may avail t' induce her to depart 
From Virtue's paths of purity and peace. 
And while subjecting her to wiles like these. 
Thus basely using all his powers to please. 
And to his own wild passions giving rein, 
Expects his human sister to remain 
As chaste as snow, as cold as spajrkling ice, 
And shutting up her heart as in a vice, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 133 

Througli all temptations never once betray 
By word or act, look, tone, or feature's play, 
That she's possessed of passions like to his, 
Whose gratifying equal pleasure gives. 

Oh fathers, husbands, brothers ! is it right. 
Or justice either, thus to basely blight 
The lives of those you should with tender care 
Shield from temptation's subtle, pow'rful snare ? 
Or fair, to such control from her demand. 
While you make no attempt at self-command ? 

Miss Pansy had, like all the human world, 
Her faults and frailties ; and the pretty girl. 
On looking back, was forced with some surprise 
To frankly own she sometimes was not wise 
In yielding for a moment to the charm 
Which dwells within the clasp of tender arms. 
The pressure of fond lips in passion's kiss. 
Thrilling two warm young hearts with subtle bliss ; 
Although her purity and self-respect 
Innate and sweet she kept intact as yet. 

But Paul — he was not noble, as she thought ; 
And though with seeming eagerness he sought 



134 BROKEN DREAMS, 

To win her love, when once he deemed the prize 

Had been attained, he, too, was far from wise, 

And in his vanity and self-conceit 

Allowed the girl to see he deemed complete 

His power o'er her affections ; that he thought 

Her love was his, unwished for and unsought. 

And when the proud, if loving, maiden felt 

The bitter truth, her wounded, stung heart swelled 

With indignation, and he swiftly fell 

From off the pedestal where he'd been placed, 

And from her high esteem was thus erased. 

A slight misunderstanding first began 
What into discord permanent soon ran. 
He tried her fearfully in every way : 
Fretted and vexed her more than I can say : 
Her character's defects, however slight, 
Relentlessly contrived to bring to light, 
While she, to his intent entirely blind. 
Betrayed the faults he basely tried to find ; 
And as before her fairest side alone. 
Her nature's purity and strength she'd shown. 
Now her worst points as freely she revealed. 
And naught attempted ever to conceal. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 135 

Not well her cards did Pansy this time play. 
Indeed they all upon the table lay, 
And her opponent freely saw her hand, 
And in accordance did his own game plan. 

The qualities she'd thought that he possessed 
In rare degree, the noblest traits and best. 
For which she gave him credit, now she found 
That he was wanting in entirely. Sound 
And true as she had ever thought his heart, 
She proved it to contain in lavish parts. 
Conceit and vanity, and selfish pride. 
And all her good opinion slowly died. 
She deemed him gen'rous also, to extremes, 
And found that only in her own fair dreams 
His generosity existed. 

Thus 
Soon vanished all her tenderness and trust. 
In fact they both were disappointed. He, 
In finding her so speedily to be 
Not quite the angel he had thought her, — she 
That he was not the model she had deemed. 
And yet they both were better than the mean. 
Not many of his sex have kinder hearts. 



136- BROKEN DREAMS. 

Or better principles ; and had some art 

Been used by her in managing her part, 

Or she been better -understood bj him, 

There doubtless had no difficulty been. 

She, too, was of her sex as sound and sweet 

As any that we often chance to meet. 

But both looked through distorted eyes, and thus 

Their confidence soon vanished in distrust. 

The night before 'twas Paul's intent to go, 
They had a long, calm talk, and came- to know 
Each other better than they'd done before. 
And 'twas agreed that they should think no more 
Of what had been unpleasant in the week 
That they had spent together ; no more speak 
About the painful past, but let it all 
Be buried deep, and lost beyond recall. 
And part the same dear friends they'd ever been. 
And Pansy held her nature sweet within, 
The pow'r to thus forgive him and forget ; 
But he was too ungenerous as yet 
To do the same ; and therefore when he wrote, 
Instead of saying nothing in his note, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 137 

Of what they'd both consented to ignore, 

He all unpleasant points again went o'er; 

And she with indignation throbbing hard 

At her insulted, tortured, proud young heart, 

Saw plainly 'twould be useless to believe 

That they could ever more be friends, and grieved, 

And angry, she resolved to not reply, 

And end all future intercourse thereby. 

And thus her woman's heart again was torn ; 
Of confidence in love or friendship shorn. 
And as she turned the blotted, blistered page, 
On which the bitter lesson was engraved. 
She felt within the depths of her sad heart 
No previous wound had borne such painful smart ; 
No other task had been so hard to learn. 
No leaf so blotted she before had turned. 
Could she that fatal week lived o'er again, 
How diff'rent would the record of it been ! 
She ne'er before had lost her self-respect. 
That was, she felt, the hardest burden yet. 
Which she'd been forced to bear. 

And so she wept 
More for herself than for the friend she'd lost ; 



138 



BROKEN DREAMS. 



And who it seemed had thus her pathway crossed, 
To only leave her poor heart tempest-tossed, 
And battling with despair, regret, and pain. 
With hope, and love, and confidence all slain ; 
To feel when fi'om the past she turned away. 
Another lovely dream in ruins lay. 
Another idol proved but common clay. 




BEOKEI^ DREAMS 



BOOK SIXTH. 



" What matters a few more tears, 
Or a few days' waiting longer, 
To one that has waited for years? " 

OwBN Meredith. 




Broken Dreams 



00h St^tlj* 



Old Time, Hs age forgetting, glided on 
Apace ! Fair Night lier sable mantle donned, 
And wearing on her regal brow a crown 
Of gleaming stars, in dark-blue setting, down 
Upon the hushed and slumbering hUl-clasped town, 
Now wrapped in Winter's garments soft and white, 
Looked long and lovingly. A single light 
Gleamed through the dusky veil that hid the place 
So closely clasped in Slumber's still embrace ; 
And as the Night peeped through the half-shut blind, 
From which the glimmer stole from time to time, 



142 BROKEN BREAMS. 

She saw a large, but plainly famished room, — 

Such as those occupy whom God has doomed 

To live without the sweet delights of home, 

Where happy comfort can be found alone, — 

And close before the grate, whose glowing coals 

Long since, unheeded, paled to ashes cold, 

A tall, broad-shouldered man, with head bent down 

Upon his breast, in revery profound : 

His close-set lips, and broad, contracted brow, 

Betraying plainly that his musings now 

Were anything but pleasant, fond, or sweet. 

The man had dark-blue eyes, not large nor deep ; 
His hair, his full, long beard, and curled mustache. 
Were all dark brown ; his chin in firm mould cast; 
And though not void of charms, by any means, 
In face or manner, one would never dream 
Of thinking him a handsome man, howe'er 
The eyes that looked on him might hold him dear. 
He smiled but rarely, then with lips alone, 
Which parting, teeth revealed whose whiteness shone 
In pleasing contrast with the dark-brown beard. 
A smile so sweet that, when it first appeared. 
One gazed surprised and fascinated, while 
They watched to see again that fine, rare smile. 



BROKEN DREAMS, 143 

In movement he was somewhat slow, in speech 
Deliberate yet fluent ; and in each 
A sort of lazy grace there was, to him 
Peculiar. 

His career had thus far been 
Not one of credit to himself or friends ; 
And seemed to hold in view no noble ends. 
His family was good, and he to them 
Was ever truly kind ; not many men 
Are more entirely temperate than he. 
His habits were not bad, his hand was free, 
His heart as tender as a little child's 
When suff 'ring woke his sympathy ; and mild, 
And fine, and sweet his temper, such as few 
So blest are as to have. And yet, 'tis true 
That notwithstanding this, he stood outside 
The pale of good society, nor tried 
In any manner to his fame redeem. 
Or win again the people's lost esteem. 
And any mother would have shrunk with pain 
From every chance that might her daughter's name 
Connect with his. 

With passions hot and strong, 
A repute, on he had borne for long. 



144 BROKEN DREAMS. 

That he in dealing with the other sex 

Was quite unscrupulous ; and if correct 

The rumors were that floated to the ears 

Of his townspeople oft, 'tis to be feared 

That many a woman rued the day she met 

The man whose arts had plunged her in the depths 

Of shame and dark despair. I do not know 

How true the rumors may have been, although 

That it is difficult, I do know well. 

How much is false of what we hear to tell. 

Suffice it, then, such was the name he bore 

In all the to'wn. 

His thirty years and more 
Still saw the man Tvathout an aim in life, 
Still saw his home ungraced by child or wife. 
No girl in all the place could say her hand 
Had e'er been sought by him. And had the man 
Thus far stepped through the middle age of life 
Without a thought of winning him a wife. 
To fill his heart with love's divine content. 
His home with woman's sunshine ? Then what meant 
The clouded brow, and look of tender pain 
That set his lips, as through the guarded pane 



BROKEN DREAMS. 145 

The Night peeped softly ! Was his heart so cold 

No wbman's face an impress warm 'twould hold ? 

Then why that tremulous and long-drawn sigh, 

That hand tight clenched, that moistened, pain-filled eye ? 

A lovely face had long been painted there. 
And yearly to his eyes more passing fair 
Had grown the picture. As he looked to-night 
At every sweet detail in fancy's light, 
And pictured what his life would be, if blest 
With her companionship — if to his breast 
He once might press that lovely, girlish form, 
While 'round his neck with pressure soft and warm 
Her dainty arms should linger, he so longed 
With man's intensity of passion strong. 
For one caress from her so wildly loved — 
The only woman e'er his soul approved — 
It seemed as if his heart would burst with grief, 
And only love's r-eturn could give relief. 
And 'mid it all he felt with hopeless pain, 
Which they alone can know who love in vain, 
His vision never could be realized ; 
Ne'er could he gain the longed-for, precious prize, 
Nor %vin one tender look from those dear eyes ; 



146 BROKEN DREAMS. 

In kindly grcM^tiiig novor ioucli that hand ; 

But calmly must look on and seo some man 

More fortunate, more Avorthy, careless wear 

The flower ho would have guarded with such care. 

With love's intensity of deep despair, 

IIo felt the truth, sho stood — oh far beyond 

His utmost reach, nor over could respond 

To all the wealth of mighty tenderness 

Which through all time must throb within his breast 

For her and her alone. 

She did not dream 
How madly sIk) was worshipped. In his mien 
Or greeting, when sometimes l>y chance they met, 
No token was there of the love that swept 
With such mad fury through his stormy heart. 
No glance of tenderness, no troubled start, 
No trembling tone, betrayed to her the smart 
Her careless greeting ever left with him, 
When o'er him rushed the thought " it might have been ! " 
The very " saddest words of tongue or pen." 
Sadder to women often than to men. 
And only those who by experience know 
The bitter anguish, aggravating woe, 



BROKEN DREAMS. I47 

And stern despair of unrequited love, — 

Pain one can never conquer, wliicli above 

All sounds of revelry, all liaj)))/ song, 

Will ring its anguished sobbings sad and strong — 

I say, those only that such woe have known 

Can realize what pen has never shown, 

The weary wailings of a loving heart. 

Lonely, unsatisfied, with constant smart, 

Longing for that content, sweet peace, and rest 

With which wore love returned it might be blest. 

The world seems all at odds ! Those whom we should 
Hold dearest ever seem to us less good. 
Less worthy of our highest, sweetest love. 
And by our hearts less warmly are approved, 
Than others who are far beyond our roach. 
While those whom reason, conscience, custom teach 
No aspiration we should have to win. 
Seem to our dazzled eyes to hold within 
Their perfect natures all the gifts we prize. 
Seem loveliest and best, most sweet and wise. 
Most capable to fill our empty hearts 
With all the joy a perfect love imparts, 
And all our finest powers to employ. 
Yet those most loving rare their love enjoy. 



148 BBOEEN DREAMS. 

We grasp at what but labor can obtain, 

While all within our reach seems worthless, vain ; 

And Satan laughs and Christ looks down with pain, 

To see from sin how little we abstain ; 

How weak our human natures, and above 

All else, how potent is our finite love. 

Strong as was this man's passion, he had kept 
His secret well. Of all the tears he wept 
Over his idol ne'er to be attained, 
Of all his hours of dreary, hopeless pain, 
Of all his longings, powerful as vain, 
None ever dreamed. One Mend alone had guessed 
The secret sorrow in this man's proud breast. 
And all Ids knowledge was surmise alone. 
A lawyer, Edward Yernon, who had known 
For long this David Golden, known him well 
And called him friend, had marked the troubled swell 
Of this man's strong, proud bosom, when there fell 
Athwart his gaze a certain form and face 
Of girlish beauty and unconscious grace : 
Had noted, too, the bright'ning of his eye 
Wlien she appeared, th' involuntary sigh 
That shook his bosom when the girl passed by. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 149 

And drew his own conclusions : how correct 
They might perchance be, he did not expect 
To be informed by him. And thinking too 
That there was little hope for him, 'tis true, 
He never broached the subject save to one — 
His wife — who half believed she might be won. 
It happed the girl was intimate with her, 
And she determined, should a chance occur 
To ascertain her feelings toward him. 
To take advantage of it. There had been 
As yet no opportunity to find 
How he might stand within the fair girl's mind. 

And so to-night he sat by his dead fire, 
Struggling with passion's unfulfilled desire, 
Hopeless — unloved by her whose witching face 
Came up to taunt him vith his love misplaced ; 
While her dear name on every page was traced 
In mem'ry's book, whose leaves to-night he turned, 
While in his heart such bitter longing burned. 
And " reading backward " all the record drear 
Of, oh, so many weary, weary years, 
' He felt life held for him but pain and tears. 



150 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Since first he looked upon her lovely face, 
Then but a tiny child's, a sacred place 
Within his heart she'd held ; and he could trace 
With faithful pencil every after change 
Which had her pure life varied. Naught his range 
Of loving vision ever could escape. 
And he had felt at times his heart must break, 
As watching from afar he saw her wooed 
By those he knew must be by her approved, 
And placing to his lips the bitter cup 
Of resignation, gave his darling up. 
But when he saw the favored one dismissed. 
And knew she still was free, he could but list 
With eager ear to Hope's suggestions sweet, 
And let her whisper ease the pain that beat 
Through each pulsation of his tortured heart. 
And comfort, though it might be slight, impart. 



And what of Pansy Grey ! How sped the time 
With her, this little heroine of mine ! 
Right swiftly flew the days, or bright or drear, 
'Till o'er the threshold of another year 
Her dainty feet had stepped. Her mind still held 
The mem'ry of the pain that last had swelled 



BROKEN DREAMS: 151 

Her proud young heart to bursting. When she felt 

Her latest dream slip from her loving grasp, 

And with humiliation's bitter clasp 

Her tortured soul close hugging, felt with shame 

That for its ruin she was much to blame ; 

The while she could but think with calm contempt 

Of him whose friendship had so little meant. 

But in her royal nature still there lay 

The pow'r to thrust such memories away ; 

To silence all regret for what was past, 

And ne'er could be recalled, and let the last 

Unpleasant lesson wisdom teach her heart. 

Restraining her the while from such a part 

Again enacting. 

Taking all her grief 
To Him, who in His loving hands relief 
As full as sweet doth hold for all our pain, 
Whose comfort none shall ever seek in vain, 
She left it all with Him ; and on His breast 
Wept all her troubled grief away, and blest 
With His continued love, His tender smiles. 
Came forth from what to her seemed grievous trials. 
With strength increased, completer purity 
Of heart and life, a sweet maturity 



152 . BROKEN DREAMS. 

Of thought and act, and — what a rarity 

Has long become — a noble charity 

For others' faults ; all which but added much 

Unto a nature erst so fine, a touch 

Of dignity imparted to an air 

So full of sweetness ever, to her fair, 

Sunshiny face an added brightness gave. 

And in her every act a grace betrayed 

As new as it was charming. 

Sweet content 
Had crept into her heart ! and wisely meant, 
She felt her trials all had been, and sent 
By One who loved her with a love profound, 
A tenderness whose fulness knew no bounds, 
And bending 'neath her Saviour's chast'ning rod 
With sweet submission, murmured low, " Oh God, 
My King, my Master, let Thy will be done, 
Forgive and bless Thy child, through Christ, Thy Son." 



The brilliance of a fleeting winter's day, 
Whose sunshine's golden glory gayly lay 
On high-piled banks of newly fallen snow, 
Blushing beneath the Day-God's ardent glow, 
Was dimming rapidly, when Pansy sat 



BROKEN DREAMS. 153 

In close-cnt cloak and small coquettish hat, 
In Mrs. Vernon's pleasant rooms, a chat 
Enjoying with her friend. The talk had turned 
On David Golden ; and a soft flush burned 
Upon the girl's fair cheek, and in her heart 
She felt a little sudden flutter start, 
As Mrs. Yernon" carelessly remarked : 
" I fancy David would be very kind 
To one he loved, and should he ever find 
A woman suited to his heart and mind. 
Who his afiection could return in kind, 
I think his wife would have a very true 
And tender husband ; Pansy, do not you ? " 

The girl's deep blushes very eloquent 
To Mrs. Yernon seemed, and quite content 
She felt at her experiment's success, 
As Pansy answered soft : " I think so ; yes ! " 

Above her work the lady bent her head. 
The subject dropped as nothing more was said. 
Pansy in silence through the casement looked, 
Her nervous fingers toying with a book 
That rested in her lap ; her lovely eyes 
On vacancy were fixed. She felt surprised 



154: BROKEN DREAMS. 

That this man's name should move her thus, nor could 

Sufficient cause discover why it should. 

Was she a woman he could love, or he 

One who to her could ever dearer be ? 

She spoke on impulse but a moment since ; 

Was she of what she uttered quite convinced ? 

She never gave the subject thought before, 

Nor was the question settled, w^hen the door 

Was opened wide, and Mr. Y. walked in. • 

She rose to greet him, chatted too with him 

A moment gayly, then prepared to go. 

" Miss Grey, you cannot walk through all this snow ! '* 
The man exclaimed — " Stay ! I've a friend out here, 
I'll send him round to drive you home, my dear ! 
You'll ride with him ? 'Tis David Golden ! " 

"No! 
Oh no ! " Miss Pansy answered : " do not go, 
'Tis but a step, I do not mind the snow." 

*' I'll send him 'round at once ; I know you'll ride ? " 

" Indeed—" 

" Yes, yes, she will ! " his wife replied ; 
** I promise for her, go and send him here. 
'Tis tiresome walking in the snow, my dear ! " 



BROKEN DREAMS. 155 

" You both conspire against me, I'm afraid ; 
I scarcely know the man ! " and Pansy played 
Confusedly with muff and tassels, smiled 
And frowned, amused and vexed as well. 

Meanwhile, 
Squire Yernon strode to where he left his friend ; 
*' I found Miss Grey in-doors, and said I'd send 
You, David, 'round to drive her home. You'll go ? " 

" Why should I ? she'd not ride with me, I know ! " 

" Oh yes, she will ; drive on, my friend, and see ! " 

A moment later 'neath the great elm-tree. 
Which, when in Summer's heavy dress arrayed, 
Bent o'er the gate with ilick'ring light and shade, 
A handsome team drove up ! Two well-matched bays 
Pranced restlessly before a fairy sleigh ' 
Well filled with heavy robes, while silv'ry bells 
With merry music on the clear air fell, 
At every motion of the fiery steeds. 

The man stepped out and waited ; though, indeed, 
With little hope that he should be allowed 



166 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Tlie pleasure he desired. His clouded brow 
Betrayed the doubt he felt, but nothing showed 
The strong desire with which his soul overflowed. 
Hope and Despair, a conflict fierce and sharp, 
In that brief moment waged within his heart. 
But Hope proclaimed her triumph when the door 
Was opened, and, the ladies' farewells o'er, 
The slender, graceful figure of the girl. 
Who held within her hand his heart's whole world, 
Tripped down the walk and soon stood at his side : 
The clouded brow was gone ! Despair had died. 
And Hope leaped high within his tender heart ; 
While through his pulses with a sudden start. 
The sensitive life-current bounded fast. 
As he her white hand took in tender clasp. 
And placed her in her seat. A moment more. 
And he was by her side, and gliding o'er 
The sparkling, crusted track, far past her door, 
With no remonstrance from the girl that sat 
Close at his side. 

The drive to her, in fact, 
Was only less delightful than to him. 
The snow, though fresh, had hardly trodden been, 



BROKEN DBEAM8. 157 

By constant travel tlirougli the lovely day, 

And white as marble in the shadow lay, 

While where the sunset's roses on it fell, 

'Twas pink as woman's blushes, when there swells 

Within her heart the musical refrain 

That echoes to the sweetly solemn strain 

Of love's triumphant psean, sung by one 

Whose heart with hers in harmony is strung. 

The sky above was one unclouded arch. 

Whereon Night's Royal Highness had her march 

Begun already. Blue the broad expanse 

Far overhead, where in his proud advance. 

The sun had shook from off his golden robe 

Some gleaming sparks that spangled all the road 

With starry glory, faintly shining now. 

But when behind the distant mountain's brow 

The God of Light should vanish, they would gleam 

With bright effulgence, and their radiance seem 

Like eyes of angels— peeping through the light 

And misty veil that from our finite sight 

Shuts in the heav'nly glory— keeping guard 

Above the sleeping world, wrapped in the dark 

And gloomy robes of night. The western skies 

With golden, crimson, amber, purple dyes 



158 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Were radiant, while at the eastern bounds, 
The violet border sweeping grandly down 
To reach the mountain summits, lost its hue 
Above in rose which melted into blue. 
The bounding stream was clasped in icy hands, 
Which held the sulky waters as with bands 
Of gleaming steel or iron ; while on its bright, 
Translucent, glassy surface, forms of light 
And graceful beauty — forms as well of strong 
And manly outlines, glided swift along ; 
The while from happy hearts a snatch of song 
Oft ringing out, and blending with the bells. 
With witching sweetness on the clear air fell. 

Would Pansy be a woman, not to feel 
The magic of the scene's perfection steal 
Through all her active senses ? not to yield 
To that entrancing charm that ever dwells 
Within the melody of tinkling bells, 
When prancing steeds o'er tracks of crusted snow- 
Bear on a happy burden ? not to show 
In eye and smile, and cheek's bewitching glow, 
The pleasure she enjoyed ? And would the man 
Who sat beside her, holding in his hand 



BROKEN DREAMS. 159 

The guiding ribbons, to his sex belong, 

If harmony of bells and merry song 

And all the loveliness of earth and sky 

Were not unheeded, while his longing eye 

Might dwell upon a picture still more fair, 

More precious far to him ? — while sitting there. 

So close her perfumed breath might sweep his cheek. 

So near their shoulders met in contact sweet. 

Which made his trembling pulses faster beat, 

Was one he loved ? whom in his wildest dreams 

He'd never hoped might thus against him lean 

In seeming confidence and kind resjard. 

He shut his teeth and drew his breath in hard, 

In efforts to resist the impulse strong 

To take this girl that he had loved so long 

Close to his throbbing heart, now that she sat 

Within his longing reach ; now that a fact 

His wishes had become, and they at length 

Were thus alone together. All his strength 

Was requisite in efforts to repress 

The utterance of the mighty tenderness 

Which swelled within his heart. 

She little knew 
What perfect bliss to him, what torture too, 



160 BROKEN DREAMS. 

This hour with her was giving ! Only felt 
That in his smile a fascination dwelt, 
As sweet as subtle ; that he looked at her 
With glances which with sudden tremor stirred 
The life-blood at her heart — that bent her head 
And flushed her cheek with rose. 

Not much was said ! 
Miss Pansy felt a trifle shy with him, 
So very slight had their acquaintance been, 
And he in eager draughts was drinking in 
The gladness of her presence. 

You who long 
And vainly, too, have loved, with passion strong 
And potent as was his, and seen at last 
Your brightest dreams, and fondest longings pass 
To sweet fulfilment, — you will understand 
How much these moments were to this proud man. 

A sudden start of his impatient steeds. 
Seemed some excuse affording him, indeed. 
To draw his arm around the lady's waist. 
And thus securely keep her in her place. 
That he had caused the start, I cannot say ; 
Although so like a man to takejhat-. way 



.• BROKEN DRMAMS. 161* 

To his desire accomplish. I buUknow 
Th' excuse to act upon he was not slow ; 
And though he dared not draw his darling close, 
E'en in that slight embrace he felt the most 
Intense, exquisite pleasure. Thus at last 
To hold his love within his arm's sure clasp, 
Was joy enough for once, he felt, and so 
Kefrained from startling her by further show 
Of tenderness, lest she should not again 
Confer such pleasure on him. 

Only when"" 
The town they were approaching, and he knew 
He must release the girl, for one or two 
Brief, blissful moments, was his careless clasp 
Around her tightened, while so hard and fast 
His fond heart throbbed, had he a woman been 
Tears would his strong emotion melted in. 
And when her gate was reached, and from the sleigh 
He lifted her, and she looked up to say : 
" Thanks, Mr. Golden ! I've enjoyed the ride ' 
Exceedingly! " he joyfully replied. 
The while his heart with hope and fear beat fast : 
" I'm glad you found it pleasant ! May I ask 
That you will favor me again, Miss Grey ? " 



I 162 BROKEN DREAMS. 

" Oh yes, with pleasure ! " and she turned away, 
As he with bow and smile stepped in his sleigh, 
And glided swiftly on. 

It seemed to him, 
Asleep and dreaming he had surely been. 
When he attempted first to realize 
The fact that she, this woman whom he prized 
Above all others, had, for one sweet hour, 
Sat close beside him ; and no earthly power 
Could snatch from him the blessed consciousness 
That once his arms had held her to his breast — 
Slie scarce resisting the impassioned press — 
That once he'd clasped her little soft white hands. 
While in his face she looked with kindly glance. 
And as he sat before his fire that night, 
He felt his life had grown so wondrous bright. 
That all his future path must glow with light. 

And what of Pansy ? Well, she could but own 
A feeling quite unlike all she had known 
Before, was nestling in her heart. She felt 
Surprised to know what subtle power dwelt 
In this man's glance, and rarely lovely smile. 
She'd known him slightly for a long, long while ; 



BROKEN DREAMS. 163 

In fact, since she was bnt a " wee sma' " cHld ; 
And thouglit of him most kindly, it is true, 
Since he to her a tiny packet threw 
One day some years agone, wherein she found 
A golden cross, with large, clear pearls set 'round. 
The packet she with care had laid away. 
Just as it came to her that summer day. 
No one but her the pretty gift had seen— 
' She never wore it ! 

Yet she did not dream 
That such a circumstance would e'er occur, 

As had this pleasant afternoon to her ; 

That she should drive with him, without demur 

Submit to have his arm around her waist. 

Which there so gently, tenderly was placed, 

And give her free consent to ride again 

With one she felt could scarce be called a friend, 

So very slightly did she know the man. 

Yet after all she seemed to understand 
By intuition, that a motive lay 
Beneath the tenderness that he betrayed 
All through the hour which they together spent. 
More deep and strong— that something more was meant 



164 BROKEN DBEAMS. 

Than just the passing pleasure any man 

Would have in pressing woman's soft white hands, 

In holding to his heart a fair young girl 

Who chanced to sit beside him, in the whirl 

Of sweet, delirious pleasure, which to hearts 

Young, gay, and loving such a drive imparts. 

His tenderness seemed much too deep and grave, 

To but the troubling be of passion's waves ; 

His manner bore to her too much respect 

To be mere trifling, and although as yet 

She scarcely thought he loved her, could but guess 

'Twere not impossible his tenderness 

Might into love's divine intenseness melt, 

Nor much displeasure at the prospect felt. 




BEOKEN DREAMS 



BOOK SEVENTH. 



-:£0- 



"Love hath set 
Our days iii music, to the self-same air I" 

Owen Meredith. 

' I know that tender friends of me 
Have talked with broken hint and glance — 
The choicest flowers of calumny, 
That seem, like weeds, to spring from chance. 
That small, small, imperceptible 
SmaU talk, which cuts like powdered glass 
Ground in Tophana — ^none can tell 
Where lurks the power the poison has 1 
I may be worse than they would prove, 
(Who knows the worst of any man?) 
But right or wrong, be sure my love 
Is not what they conceive, or can." 

Owen Meredith. 




Broken Dreams 



00h S^fa^ntlj* 



Spking kissed the palsied eartli to bounding life ! 
Witli bloom and verdure every nook was rife ; 
With melody the soft, sweet air was fraught, 
From warbling bird and laughing brooklet caught. 
To two glad hearts a new enchantment dwelt 
In leaf and bud and bloom — new charms were felt 
In balmy air, and rippling stream, and song 
Of bird and bee, with which the sweet day long 
Was vocal. 

David Golden seemed to breathe 
A new and sweeter atmosphere ; to leave 



168 BROKEN DREAMS. 

The old life, with its weary, vague unrest, 
Its pains, its follies, and unworthy quests. 
Far, far behind him; while, with perfect joy 
That thrilled his heart whatever his time employed. 
He revelled in the consciousness so sweet. 
That he his love might almost daily meet, 
Assured he should from her no words receive 
But those of gracious kindness — never leave 
The charming girl without some blessed mark 
Of having gained within her pure, young heart 
A higher place, without a blush and smile 
So sweet and witching that he felt beguiled 
Far deeper into love's mysterious maze ; 
While fairy Hope tinged all the perfect days 
With sweetest hues of rose, and all his life 
With dreamy pleasure and content was rife. 

And as to Pansy, in her guileless heart, 
She felt to life a new emotion start ! 
A joy which beautified all common things. 
Which brightened every care, and threw bright rings 
Of sunlight over every daily cloud. 
That ofttimes threat 'ningly above her bowed. 
For not all brightness was the fair girl's life. 
And with vexations sore each day was rife. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 169 

But now they seemed mere trifles, viewed with eyes 

So filled with happy light, that rosy dyes 

Seemed tinging every dark-hued, weary care. 

Life seemed to grow bewilderingly fair, 

While in a dream of pleasure sped the hours. 

And every moment blushed with Hope's sweet flowers 

"Which Love's glad hands swift gathered. Ne'er before 

Had she approached the threshold of a door 

Which opened on a scene so passing fair, 

As that she saw while on Hope's winding stair 

Her shy, reluctant feet were ling'ring. Bright, 

Beyond her utmost fancy, was the light 

Love shed upon her future. Never yet, 

In all her life's most pleasant retrospect. 

Had such content been cradled in her heart. 

Such sweet, entrancing joy filled every part. 

Such pleasure through her bounding pulses thrilled, 

As that which now each happy moment filled. 

Ne'er blushed such witching beauty in her face. 
Ne'er owned her manner such entrancing grace. 
Ne'er rang her happy laugh so wondrous sweet, 
Ne'er through her tones did such sweet music leap. 
As in the past few pleasant, perfect weeks. 



170 BROKEN DREAMS. 

And was it love that threw such golden gleams 
Athwart her path ? Had all her " broken di-eams 
The blight of love's resemblance been alone, 
And had she ne'er the one grand passion known 
Until this man, with his bewitching smile. 
Had crossed her path, and with a word beguiled 
Her heart from out her keeping ? leaving there 
A happiness so perfect, that she cared 
But little for its loss. And this man too ! 
Whom — though he ever treated her, 'tis true, 
"With deference and most profound respect — 
She knew in social life had never stepped 
Within the circle where she'd ever moved, 
And that her choice would be by none approved. 
Should she consent to give to him her life. 
And be, when he should ask, his tender wife. 

But then, what matter if she loved the man ! 
And if to him she chose to give her hand. 
Why need her friends presume to interfere. 
In int' rest's that were hers alone, 'twas clear. 
And when she only would be forced to bide 
The consequences of her act. No right 
Had any to objection make, except 



BROKEN DREAMS. 171 

Her mother, and by her she must expect 
To be opposed, whoe'er she might select. 

But did she love him ? swiftly flushing cheek, 
As through her veins her heart's warm current leaped 
And thrilled her rampant pulses — softened eye. 
And happy smile, made eloquent, reply. 
Oh yes ! at last she loved ! and if in vain, 
If blighted all her brilliant hopes became, 
She'd find that sharp as might have been the pain 
Which she had suffered as her idols fell 
In days long past, 'twas but a little swell 
Of shallow, turbid water, when compared 
With wasted love's broad ocean of despair. 
That she a broken heart had now to mourn, 
And not a fleeting, shattered dream alone. 



The pleasant drive that winter afternoon 
By other pleasant ones was followed soon ; 
And only had the sweet initial proved 
To that companionship, which into love 
Had ripened trusting friendship. Neither knew 
One doubt that reciprocity was true. 



172 BROKEN DREAMS. 

And in each other's passion being pure, 
And lasting as 'twas sweet, they felt secure. 

He'd sweetly told his love a thousand times — 
In softened eye, and trembling tone, and mine 
Of tenderness, which in his rare, sweet smile 
Dwelt ever, in his arm's embrace the while 
They glided o'er the paths of trodden snow, 
Or walked at eve together, while the glow 
Of sunset lingered on the hill-tops far, 
Above which gleamed the brilliant " evening star,"- 
But never yet in -words ! Though either knew 
Not much the speech their joy could add unto. 

Soon after this companionship began. 
Aside, one day. Squire Yernon took the man, 
And said : " There's somewhat that I wish to say 
To you, my friend, in ref 'rence to Miss Grey. 
I've noticed your attentions have become 
Of late quite marked. I think she might be won, 
And if you love the girl, as I sus^Ject, 
Although her friends may possibly object, 
I hope and think you still might have success. 
For when my wife to her one day expressed 



BROKEN DREAMS. 173 

The thought that you would very tender prove 
To one you loved, as well as kind and true. 
And her opinion urged her to express. 
With many blushes, said, ' I think so ; yes ! ' 
We have with her much influence, you know, 
And you together we were first to throw ; 
And if you wish to win the fair girl's hand, 
You'll our assistance have. JBut understand. 
You must not trifle with her ; recollect 
A word from us might lessen her respect, 
And ruin all your prospects. Be as true 
As in her purity she'll be to you. 
And you will give her only what's her due, 
And have our very kindest wishes too." 

" You need not fear ! I've loved her all my life. 
And she shall be my true and honored wife. 
Can her consent be won. I would not harm 
My darling, sooner than this strong right arm 
I'd thrust within that glowing, molten fire. 
I'd trifle, think, with one that I desire 
,Above all else, to make my cherished wife? 
You need not fear ; I'd guard her with my life ; 



174: BROKEN DREAMS. 

She's sacred as a mother to her child ; 
My love is pure, if 'tis intense and wild." 

With this reply Squire Yernon was content. 
And on to happy love their friendship went. 
They drove and walked together, sometimes met 
In Mrs. Vernon's parlor, but as yet 
He seldom called to see her at her home. 
Although she often wished it. Having known 
Too well the place he held in people's minds. 
From paying her attentions of the kind 
That should arouse susj)icions in her friends, 
Por long he shrank ; and 'till he could depend 
On Pansy's constancy, whate'er opposed. 
He felt unwilling rashly to disclose 
Their standing to each other, unto those 
Who'd be, he knew, too likely to object. 
And they his motives surely would suspect, 
When he to visit her should once begin. 
And though much pleasure 'twould afforded him 
To be thus openly received by her. 
Too much was yet at stake, he felt, to stir 
An opposition recklessly, that might 
The new-born hopes he cherished serve to bhght, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 175 

And snatch his darling from his eager grasp. 

And so he waited, 'till he felt his clasp 

On her affections had become secure 

Enough, her constancy to render sure. 

And so they dreamed away the summer hours, 

By stream and mead, in leafy, rustic bowers. 

And every path they trod was strewn with flowers. 

But never yet the " course of love " ran smooth I 
And Pansy realized full soon the truth 
That hers was no exception to the rule. 
But having many lessons in the school 
Of sad experience been taught, had learned 
'Twerc best that one should not be always turned 
By others' selfish wishes from the way 
They like to enter ; and that duty lay 
In sacrifice not only, but 'twas true 
As well, that something to one's self was due. 
She'd yielded much to others in the past. 
And think of self she felt 'twas time at last. 
She knew strong opposition to her choice 
She might expect ; but listening to the voice 
That made such music in her loving heart. 
She felt with all her summer friends she'd part 



176 BROKEN DBEAM8. 

For him she loved ; and thus herself prepared 
To meet whatever came. Nor was she spared 
The dreaded trial long. 

Miss Hattie May, 
A friend most intimate, soon turned away 
With scorn from her who chose to exercise 
Her right to act without the sought advice 
Of all her so-called friends. To give the man 
That loved her, both her willing heart and hand, 
Regardless whether they approved or not. 
And so Miss May her friend's acquaintance dropped. 
And many others soon had done the same. 
But pained as Pansy felt to find how vain 
And worthless had the friendship proved of those 
She all her life had known, and e'er supposed 
Her true and tender friends, no one would dream 
She marked their disaffection ; for her mien 
More smiling, careless, haughty, proud, and gay, 
Had never been, than in the early days 
Of their affected coolness. On her way 
She went as calmly, sweetly, as if naught 
,But purest joy her latest love had brought. 

Her mother nothing said, until the man 
To visit Pansy at her home began ; 



BROKEN DBEAM8. 177 

Although she scarcely coiild in ignorance been, 
Of her accustomed walks and drives with him. 
But when she openly his calls received, 
The mother longer would not be deceived. 
'Twas getting serious at length, she feared. 
And thought it time that she should interfere, 
Lest her attendant, careful, patient, kind. 
She'd lose, and never such another find. 
She fumed and fretted for a little time. 
Grew captious and impatient to extremes ; 
But Pansy still continued quite serene — 
Although surmising what the new mood meant — ■ 
And braced herself for what she knew was pent 
Behind that frowning brow and angry mien, 
And waited calmly for the dreaded scene. 
Ere many days the pei^ding tempest broke. 
And Mrs. Grey with sneering manner spoke : 



" Pansy, what gentleman was here last eve 



9" 



« Last eve? oh, David Golden, I believe ! " 
And Pansy to the very lips grew white, 
And drew her chair from out the brilliant light. 

" What ! David Golden ? that low man, my dear? 
8* 



178 BROKEN DREAMS. 

What possibly could bring the fellow here ? 
Or was it Temple that he came to see ? " 

" Oh no, mamma, his visit was to me ! " 
Her tone was careless, though her heart stood still, 
Then bounded madly, 'till it seemed to fill 
Her veins to bursting. 

" Touf " said Mrs. Grey, 
" And why on you should he be calling, pray ! 
What can my daughter have to say to him ! " 

And Pansy answered calmly, though within 
Her darkened eyes .an angry splendor flashed, 
And indignation in her heart throbbed fast : 
" Why is it gentlemen their visits pay 
To ladies commonly ? " 

And Mrs. Grey 
With scorn returned : "A gentleman, my dear, 
Might have some reason for a visit here. 
In such a case 'twould not be strange at all ! 
For gentlemen on ladie>s often call 
With hope, and with intent to win their hands. 
But why the visits of this low-born man 
My daughter should receive, I must confess 
I'm wholly at a loss to even guess." 



BROKEN DREAMS. I79 

Now this was rather more than Pansy's high 
And haughty temper well could brook. With eye 
All fire, and angry tone, she made reply : 
" This man — or him you've designated thus — 
Is not by birth inferior to us. 
As you must know. And, strange as it may be, 
The motive for the visits paid to me 
Was what you say you fail to understand : 
The wish, intent, and hope to win my hand. 
And what is more, he's like to have success ; 
For when he asks it, I shall answer ' Yes ! ' "- 

" Indeed ! you will ! suppose that I object ? " 

" Mamma, I've ever paid a due respect 
To your desires howe'er they might conflict 
With my intents or wishes. You'll admit 
That many gentlemen who strongly wished 
To win my love have been by me dismissed 
In consequence of your objections. So, 
From past experience, I can but know 
Whoever might to me attentions pay, 
E'en though desirable in every way. 
By you with favor would not be received. 
And though I cannot tell how deeply grieved 



180 BROKEN DREAMS. 

I am at being forced to disregard 

Your wishes in tMs matter, howe'er hard 

It may be, I believe that something's due 

To me, my dear mamma, no less than you ; 

And finding it is useless to attempt 

To please you by my choice, 'tis my intent 

To please myself at least. And when this man, 

As I before have said, shall ask my hand, 

I shall with pleasure gratify his wish.'^ 

" You shall not do it ! Pansy, I insist 
You see the man no more ! Eorbid again 
His entrance to my house. Remember, then, 
T will not have it ! Do you understand ? 
That you should stoop to tliink of such a man ! 
What thus bewitches you I cannot tell." 

And Pansy answered firmly: ** Yery well ! 
If here at home he cannot visit me. 
We elsewhere surely shall each other see. 
I'm quite resolved I will not give him up, 
'Tis useless talking ! let the matter drop ! " 

" Then leave the roobi at once, nor let me see 
Your face again to-night. Send Ann to me." 



BROKEN DREAMS. 181 

And Pansy with an aching heart obeyed, 
And felt for love a heavy price she paid. 
But still she did not waver ; thought the right 
Was on her side, and hoped her mother might 
In time more reason exercise, overcome 
Her strong aversion to her wedding one 
Her heart had chosen, or at least relent 
Sufficiently to give her own consent 
To what she could not hinder. But the days 
Passed rapidly along, and Mrs. Grey's 
Ill-temper did not cease ; and she contrived 
To make almost unbearable the life 
Of her who still with such unwearied care 
To every want administered, and spared 
No efforts for her happiness and ease, 
Though nothing she could do appeared to please. 

And so the moonlight walks and twilight drives 
Continued, and were all that kept alive 
Sweet hope and courage in the girl's tried heart. 
His tenderness new strength to act her part 
In life's stern daily battle gave to her ; 
And petty trials, which so vexing were. 
His love enabled her with patience sweet. 
With kind, forbearing gentleness to meet, 



182 BBOKEN DREAMS. 

Until lier nature, erst so wondrous fine, 
Seemed growing rarer, sweeter, all the time. 

The village gossips, with suspicious eyes 
And shaking heads, beheld the twilight drives, 
The evening walks, and thought 'twere right and wise 
For them to interfere. Somewhat surprised 
Was Pansy to receive from Mrs. May 
And one or two beside, a call one day 
About midsummer. 

More confounded still 
"Was she when Mrs. May said : " Pansy will, 
I trust, excuse me if I now refer 
To matters which perchance may be to her 
Somewhat unpleasant. Possibly, Miss Grey, 
You may not be aware what people say 
Of your connection lately with a man 
On whom you scarcely would bestow your hand. 
And if you should thus far yourself forget, 
It could but cause you much profound regret. 
None think, of course, you mean to marry him, 
And thus your frequent walks and drives have been 
A source of much unkindly comment here. 
And so I thought a duty 'twas, my dear. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 183 

To warn you, and prevent your taking steps 
You might hereafter bitterly regret." 

Miss Pansy listened, but with flashing eye, 
With haughty smile, and bearing proud and high. 
Her cheeks' indignant flushes came and went. 
And with sarcastic coolness, calm contempt. 
Her voice rang clearly, when at last she spoke : 

" Well, Mrs. May ! 'tis greatly to be hoped 
Stern duty's dictates you will e'er obey 
As readily as you have done to-day. 
But, though you doubtless many thanks expect 
From me for so much kindness (?), I regret 
I'm quite incapable of gratitude 
To those who thus, unwarranted, intrude 
In matters even they, I think, must own 
Concerns myself most nearly and alone. 
Your power, too, you wholly overrate. 
When thinking any steps I choose to take 
May be prevented by your kind (?) advice. 
But possibly you do not realize 
I'm not a child, and thus may be supposed 
My own afiairs to know, as well as those 



184 BROKEN DREAMS. 

They scarcely can concern. I'm able, yet, 
To manage them myself; and beg you'll let 
Them trouble you no more. Assured of this. 
That I shall doubtless marry whom I wish, 
E-egardless as to who I thus shall please 
Or fail to gratify. Your mind at ease 
1 trust may be hereafter. But, think twice 
Ere meddling thus again, is my advice." 

She rose, and bidding them " good-afternoon," 
With haughty grace she glided from the room. 
And sending Ann to show them to the door, 
Felt much relieved the interview was o'er. 
And as upstairs with proud, firm step she went. 
Hot anger, indignation, and contempt. 
In curling lip and flashing eye were shown. 
But when at last she found herself alone. 
Her heart swelled high with aggravating pain, 
As she reviewed the interview again. 
And fancied all the hard, unjust remarks, 
That doubtless had been made, and which in part 
She'd half surmised before, in consequence 
Of studied coolness of her former friends. 
She little dreamed that such a thing to her 
By any chance would ever have occurred. 



BROKEN' DREAMS. 185 

And bitterly the proud girl writhed beneath 

The consciousness that such things should be breathed 

By quondam friends of her. 

The path of love 
Was not all strewn with roses, nor above 
Did sunny skies at ev^y step bend down. ^ 

She felt that did she win the blessed crown 
Of wedded happiness, 'twas but through pain 
And tears and grief the prize would be attained. 
And then she wondered if the man she loved, 
Of such a sacrifice would worthy prove. 
And just a hint of doubt crept in her heart, 
Suggesting it were possible the part 
"Which he was acting was not quite sincere ; 
And that to him she might not be so dear 
As she had fancied : he had never yet 
The words " I love you " uttered. And forget 
The character he hitherto had borne, 
She sometimes found it difficult ; and mourned 
That her affections she had placed at last. 
On one whose reputation in the past 
Had not been enviable, to say the least : 
And though to her he ever had been pleased 



186 BROKEN DREAMS. 

To show profound respect, how could she tell 
But her heart he'd been playing with, as well. 
Experience had taught her to distrust 
Men's motives in affairs of love, and thus 
It were not wonderful if she sometimes^ 
Within her love and confidence, should find 
The subtle poison of distrust had crept. 

And so poor Pansy, proud, but loving, wept, 
As many others of her sex have done, 
Above the shattered idols, one by one 
Torn from her grasp, to find how much deceit 
And heartlessness the world contained, how deep 
The canker 'neath the lovely surface lay. 
And from it all with pain she turned away, 
To Him, the ever true, the ever kind. 
And in "Whose love she never failed to find 
A balm for every woe, for every grief 
A solace, comfort, and a sweet relief. 




BEOKEN DEEAMS 



BOOK EIGHTH. 



♦'Wlib woxild not lightly lose the world 
V • To keep such love ? " 



Owen Meredith. 



" These dear moments 
Repay the sorrows of a weary life 
Of waiting, fading hopes. Thou lovest me 1 " 

J. C. Heywood. 




'^ 



Broken Dreams 



§00h ©igljtlj* 



The glowing sunlight of an afternoon 
Far into August, tipped the green festoons 
Of drooping vines on trellised portico 
With gleams of burnished gold. The brilliant glow 
In fretted flickers creeping through the screen 
Of floating sprays of vivid, shaded green. 
Fell on a graceful figure sitting there, 
And rested on her wealth of flowing hair 
Like crowns of golden glory. Pure and fair 
And fresh and sweet as ever seemed the girl, 
And happy smiles her rose lips often curled, 



190 BROKEN DREAMS. 

As nmsingly her velvet cheek she leaned 

Upon her soft white hand, and brightly dreamed 

Of what the eve for her might have in store. 

Her friend's long absence of two weeks or more, 
To-night would end ; and she in rev'rie sweet 
Looked forward to the time when they should meet ; 
No shade of sadness, no forebodings dark. 
The gladness tinted of her loving heart ; 
No doubt his joy would be as deep, entire, 
At meeting, as would hers, or she desired. 
How many thus have waited, hoped, believed, 
To be at last most cruelly deceived ! 

Her brother. Temple, at her friend's request. 
Upon a pleasure tour some distance "West, 
Had his companion been ; and both to-night 
The girl expected home ; and very bright 
The face with which the coming evening train 
Impatiently was waited. But in vain 
The choking bound with which her heart replied 
To that prolonged, shrill shrieking, that implied 
The longed-for train's approach. A well-known step 
At length came up the gravelled walk that swept 



BROKEN DREAMS. 191 

From gate to portico, and Pansy rose 
To welcome home her brother. She supposed 
His late companion also had arrived, 
Until she, somewhat later, had contrived 
To carelessly inquire if David came. 

" Oh, no ! " said Temple : " he in Troy remained. 
Some matters to atteud to. He'll be down 
To-morrow, doubtless." 

Glancing swiftly 'round 
At her, he then as quickly turned away, 
And hesitatingly went on : '* But say ! 
Do you care anything about the man ? 
For if you do, I'm certain that you can 
No longer, when I tell you what he said 
While we were absent." 

Pansy dropped her head, 
But made no answer, while with painful dread 
Her heart sank lower stilL Had she to fear 
Another cruel crushing of the dear 
And cherished dreamings of her tender heart ? 
And could the man she loved a traitor's part 
Have acted, and resolved the fatal blow 
Which should her hope and trust in him lay low, 
To deal himself? He surely could but know 



192 BROKEN DREAMS. 

That anything he might to Temple say- 
Would he to her repeat without delay. 
She thought with feelings of profound despair, 
" Oh, what new trial have I now to bear ? " 

But Temple soon continued : *' When one eve 
Of you we'd been conversing, he believed, 
He said, that you might easily be won ;, 
Too easily, in fact, for any one 
At all fastidious to e'er aspire 
To such an honor. Though he'd no desire 
To win your hand — ^he boastingly went on — 
He did not doubt but he to-morrow morn 
Might lead you to the altar, if he chose. 
Nor did he think you better than were those 
Who made much less pretension ; that a sham 
Was your religion, and that any man 
Could sway you as he liked." 

" And you stood by 
And heard your sister thus insulted ? " 

"I? 
Why, what could Zdo ? " Temple made reply. 
" I told him sharply we'd enough of that, 
And were I but a man, he'd take it back. 



BROKEN DBEAMS. 193 

He only laughed at me, and said : ' 'Tis true ! 
And if you were a man, what could you do ? ' 
' Do ? ' I exclaimed ; ' I'd grind you in the dust ! 
You would not dare insult my sister thus, 
If not aware she'd no one to defend 
Her honor from a vile pretended friend's 
Aspersions, save a boy ! ' But let him wait 
A year or two, and if I don't mistake. 
He'll get with compound int'rest all his pay ! 
Well, after that, of course, I could not stay, 
And so I left when we arrived at Troy. 
That's why I came alone." 

Although the boy 
Had spoken angrily, he kept his face 
Averted wholly from his sister's gaze. 
She did not notice it ; and when at last 
She managed, scarcely audibly, to gasp : 
" Well, Temple, that will do ; please go away 
And see mamma ; she wants you, I dare say." 
Without a glance at her the boy obeyed. 

The picture of despair poor Pansy looked. 

For while her brother spoke the blood forsook 

Her cheeks and lips, and seemed to lie congealed 

Around her bursting heart ; her lips close-sealed, 
9 



194 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Her eyes were wide-dilated, with a stare 

Of utter, pitiful, and blank despair. 

Oh this, she felt, was more than she could bear ! 

Insulted, tortured — oh, what had she done, 

To be thus cruelly maligned by one 

She'd loved with all her heart ? Too well he knew 

That not a word of what he said was true. 

She'd borne a deal of agony before, 

But nothing ever that her heartstrings tore 

Like this. Resentment, anger, all was lost 

In overwhelming anguish. 

What had cost 
This fatal love of hers ? Her mother's smile, 
Whose loss her home made wretched all the while. 
Her friends' regard, acquaintances' respect. 
Herself much grievous pain, and, harder yet 
To bear, a blow like this, which seemed in twain 
To rend her tortured heart. How foolish, vain. 
Had proved her love and confidence in him ; 
How cruelly betrayed her trust had been — 
Betrayed in one fell moment ; dashed to earth 
Without an instaat's warning ! 

Little worth 



BROKEN DREAMS. 195 

Did life look then to this poor stricken girl, 
But coldj and heartless, utterly, the world. 
The years had brought her nothing but regret 
And grief and disappointment. Why expect 
The future aught beside to have in store? 
In love or friendship she'd believe no more. 
Not even her elastic heart could rise 
Above a shock like this. Oh, if her eyes 
She could but close no more to open them. 
Until she stood where griefs and sorrows end, 
Until her feet the stream of Death had crossed. 
And reached the shore where earthly pains are lost. 

Hope for the first time seemed entirely dead ! 
Who could she trust ? where lay her weary head 
Save on her Saviour's bosom? He alone 
Was true and tender. Only He had shown 
Compassion for her griefs — had e'er remained 
To all He promised faithful. Ne'er in vain 
Had she to Him for love and comfort gone. 
And He was still her friend. His arm so strong 
And tender still was 'round her to sustain. 
His smile still held a balm to soothe her pain. 
Was her religion nothing but a sham ? 
What else but that could hushed to partial calm 



196 BROKEN DREAMS. 

The troubled waters of lier tortured soul ? 
"What else her bleeding, sinking heart uphold ? 
"What would she been without it in the day 
When all her earthly props are torn away, 
Her hopes all dead, and nothing left but that ? 

With scarce a change of posture, Pansy sat 
Where Temple left her, till the darkness fell, 
And hid the gentle bosom's troubled swell, 
The strained but tearless eyes, the poor, white cheeks. 
The lips compressed and pale. With falt'ring feet 
And trembling limbs at last she crept upstairs. 
And fought the whole night through with sharp despair. 

The morning found her calm, but pale as death. 
Large rings her eyes encircled, and her breath 
Unconsciously was interspersed with sighs. 
Which seemed from her o'erburdened heart to rise 
With each perturbed pulsation. It was sad 
To see the face but yesterday so glad. 
Now bearing marks of such acute distress. 
Eacli duty was performed with weariness, 
And how the moments dragged, no one could guess. 

But when the summer's purple twilight came. 
And with it thundered in the evening train. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 197 

Poor Pansy, gazing througli the half-shut blind, 

Saw striding by the man she'd deemed so kind, 

So worthy of her tenderness and trust, 

But who had bowed her to the very dust, 

And dealt her loving heart the hardest blow 

It ever had to bear — the tears so slow 

In coming to her outraged heart's relief 

Rushed forth in torrents, as with bitter grief 

She saw the man glance up from time to time 

While passing by, as if in hopes to find 

Some lovely face a welcome smiling there, 

And did not dream what utter, blank despair, 

Was graven on the countenance that bent 

Behind the screening blind — the anguish sent 

By him and him alone. How did he dare 

To look that way with such a smiling stare, 

As if he deemed a greeting waited there ! 

How could he show that proud, but treach'rous face 

To her he'd just so grievously outraged ! 

Or was there some mistake ? and she was not 
Herself deceiving in the sudden thought 
"That when he failed to find the welcome sought, 
A shade of disappointment overspread 
The smiling face, as he with bended head 



198 BROKEN BREAMS. 

Passed slowly onward. No ! the man was base, 

Unkind, untrue ! His tenderness of face 

And manner, but a treacherous disguise, 

A lure to blind the dazzled, trusting eyes 

Of his confiding victim ! She'd believe 

No more in him, who once had thus deceived. 

Insulted, and maligned her. He should see 

That not so easy to be won was she. 

As he had dared to fancy I That her hand 

Could not be quickly gained by any man 

Who chose to sue for it. 

And yet her heart 
Cried bitterly, " I love him ! must we part ? 
Oh why, my darling, could you not be true. 
And love your Pansy as she's worshipped you ? " 
Then wondered why it was she could not win 
Abiding, true affection ! Why had been 
Her fairest hopes all blighted ! Was there naught 
About her worthy of the love she sought ? 
No winning charm or beauty in her face. 
And in her manner no attractive grace ? 
She crossed the room and paused before the glass, 
To seek an answer to the questions asked. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 199 

The face and figure of a fair young girl 
Looked back at her, but with dishevelled curls 
The head was crowned, the red and swollen eyes 
Were veiled with blinding tears, whose scarlet dyes 
Were painted on the fair soft cheeks as well, 
While with a constant and tumultuous swell 
The gentle bosom heaved. She turned away, 
Despairingly convinced no witch'ry lay 
In such a picture as the one her gaze 
Then rested on. 

And so the weary days 
Passed slowly onward, bringing slight relief 
To Pansy's heart so crushed with troubled grief. 
They had not met as yet ! she tried her best 
To him avoid, and with complete success. 
She saw him very frequently pass by — 
With bowed head lately, and averted eye ; 
And to herself she was obliged to own 
He looked' most wretched, grave and sad had grown ! 
She wondered did his course much pleasure bring. 

Her friends, the Vernons, had the previous spring 
The place adjoining purchased, and had been 
Some. months residing there; when running in 



200 BROKEN DREAMS. 

One afternoon, the lady found her friend 
So sad and downcast, she determined then 
To try and ascertain what had of late 
The poor girl troubled so. Nor did it take 
A deal of strong persuasion on her side, 
To lead Miss Pansy in her to confide. 

With trembling lip and tone the tale was told ; 
And Mrs. Vernon listened to the whole 
In silence, then replied : " There's some mistake, 
I'm certain. Pansy ! David would not make, 
E'en though he felt them, such remarks of you, 
To any one, much less to one he knew 
"Would speedily repeat them. Temple must 
His meaning have mistaken ; and I trust 
You'll find it so ere long. I chance to know 
His sentiments are quite unlike to those ! 
He told my husband, many months ago. 
That he had loved you, Pansy, all your life, ' 
And meant to tiy and win you for his wife. 
Had never cared for any one but you. 
And that his love was pure as deep and true. 
You say he's ever shown you true respect. 
And can you think that be would take a step 



BROKEN DBEAMS. 201 

He could but know would shut him from your heart, 

And be the means of causing you to part 

At once, and that forever ? You will find 

There's been an error somewhere ; and in time 

The wrong will all be righted— soon, my dear, 

I hope and trust. And David, too, I fear 

Is scarcely less unhappy than are you ! 

I've often noticed, ipv a week or two. 

He seemed much vexed and troubled ; trust him still 1 

You'll find him worthy yet, I'm sure you will ! " 

When Mrs. Yernon reached her home, she found 
The man was there ; and said to him, " Go 'round 
And see Miss Grey! she wants you, I believe; 
You'll find her all alone ! " 

And taking leave 
At once, her bidding gladly he obeyed. 
On entering he foimd her fair head laid 
In an abandonment of troubled grief 
Upon her arms, which on the table-leaf 
Were resting carelessly. The drooping form. 
Despairing posture, falling tears, and storm 
Of sobs which shook her bosom, to the warm 
And tender heart of him who loved her, seemed 
Most touchingly pathetic ; and with mien 



202 BROKEN DREAMS, 

Of troubled sympathy a cliair he placed 

Close at her side, and dravv^ing round her waist 

His arm, said tenderly : " Why, Pansy, dear, 

What is it pains you thus ? What mean those tears ? 

Will you not tell the one that loves you best 

What 'tis that causes you so much distress ? 

You know I love you, don't you ? tell me then 

What grieves my darling ! " and his face he bent 

Close to the poor girl's flushed and tear-wet cheek. 

" What is it, love ? " he whispered : " Pansy, speak ! " 

She shrank from him, and pushed away his head. 
" Have you so soon forgotten what you said 
Of me to Temple, while you both were gone ? 
And after having been so foully wronged, 
Think you that in your love' I could believe, 
Or be again so easily deceived ? " 

" Why, Pansy, what is this ? I've said of you 
No word but what I've felt was sweetly true ; 
Said naught to which you, even, could object. 
For though 'tis true I scarcely dare expect 
My love for you can ever be returned. 
An honest passion though it may be spurned, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 203 

Should cause respect or pity, not offence. 

And though you cannot love me, we may friends 

Be yet^ assuredly. Your brother may 

My words misstated ! What did Temple say ? " 

In Pansy's heart a gleam of comfort crept — 
A hope he might prove faithful even yet. 
And all these heavy clouds be swept away, 
Her night of sorrow turned to perfect day. 
His words to her so opposite had been 
To those her brother quoted, as from him 
Proceeding, that there'd surely been mistake. 
She could but feel ; and so began to state 
Exactly what had Temple said. 

All through 
He heard her, then exclaimed : " It is not true ! 
The whole of it is false from first to last ! 
No wonder, love, that you for some time past 
Have thus avoided me. Were I so base, 
Do you suppose I'd dare to show my face 
To one I'd wronged so cruelly ? Believe, 
I never could my darling thus have grieved ! 
When we of you were speaking, late one eve, 
I inadvertently my love betrayed ; 
But saw at once a sad mistake I'd made; 



204 BROKEN DREAMS. 

For Temple grew right angry, and declared 

I should not marry you. I would not dare 

To think of you, he said, were he a man, 

And never should attempt to win your hand. 

I laughed at him, and asked what he could do. 

* He'd let me know ! ' he said. He had with you 

Some influence yet, he fancied, and if not. 

His mother had authority, he thought. 

I deemed it probable that he'd attempt 

My visiting his sister to prevent ; 

But, though I hardly hoped your hand to win, 

I did not think that you'd be swayed by him. 

But when on my return I failed to see 

My darling at the gate awaiting me. 

And day by day passed slowly on, without 

A sight of her I loved, I did not doubt 

But having heard my wishes, you desired 

To show me I'd presumed, when I aspired 

To win you for my wife. How pained I felt 

At being from your presence thus expelled. 

At having all my cherished hopes prove naught 

,But empty dreams, at losing what I sought — 

The only woman e'er I wished to wed, 

The heart for many years I've coveted — 



BROKEN DREAMS. 205 

How dark my future seemed at once to grow, 
How bitterly I felt, my hope's o'erthrow, 
I'll not attepapt to say. 

" I cannot tell 
When I've not loved you tenderly and well I 
Since first I saw you, then a little girl, 
You've been the dearest object which the world 
Contained for me. And though I never deemed 
You coidd care aught for me, you cannot dream 
What anguish I've endured when I have seen 
My dear one wooed by those I could not doubt 
Would be by her accepted. And without 
A chance of competition for the prize 
Continually before my longing eyes, 
Had calmly to look on and see the palm 
Borne off in triumph by some worthier man. 
And after this, perhaps, dear, you can guess 
What I have not the power to express : 
The joy I felt to have you at my side, 
In those sweet moments of our first, glad ride. 
A joy, too, that increased, day after day, 
^ Until a few weeks since I went away. 
Oh, tell me, Pansy, you believe me now ! 
Nor turn away from me when I avow 



206 BROKEN DUEAMS. 

I love you madly, sweetly, as my life ; 
My dearest, will you be my loving wife ? " 

He took her hand — nor did the girl resist ; 
And turned the face averted toward his. 
No answer did he need but what was traced 
Most eloquently on that April face. 
Tears gemmed the heavy, drooping lashes still ; 
With crystal drops the violet eyes were filled. 
But smiles were dancing in their purple depths, 
And curving lips that trembled even yet. 
A^liappy flush was on the tear- wet cheeks. 
Sent thither by her heart's triumphant beat; 
And over all a witching radiance shone. 
Which happy love could lighted there alone. 

A moment did the man who loved her gaze 
Upon the tearful and sunshiny face, 
And then in tones that trembled, he exclaimed : 
" Oh Pansy ! can it be- that not in vain 
My love on you is lavished ? Is it true 
That I at last may hope I'm loved by you, 
My own, my chosen ? Life has nothing more 
To ofier — ^naught beside so sweet in store, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 207 

As Pansy's trust and fond affection. Oli ! 
What joy it gives to me you cannot know. 
Filled to the jewelled brim's my blessed cup, 
And this dear moment joyfully makes up 
For all the pain and longing of the past. 
And soj my darling, I am loved at last ! 
God bless you, dear ! " 

• And in his arms he clasped 

The yielding form, and on the smiling lips 
He softly pressed his glad betrothal kiss. 
And Pansy laid her head against his breast, 
With feelings of divine and perfect rest. 
At last she loved— was loved ! The semblance sweet 
No longer in her heart did faintly beat. 
But life's grand passion, tender and complete, 
In all its sweetness, purity, and strength, 
Was reigning there triumphantly at length ! 



We will not on that first glad hour intrude, 
But let it be a. silent interlude 
Between the changeful paeans of the past. 
So sad at times, triumphant at the last. 
And all the melody of time to come. 
Which shall from their united hearts be rung. 



BEOKEISr DEEAMS 



BOOK NINTH. 



"I never thought to know what I have known— 
The rapture, dear, of being loved by you. 
I never thought within my heart to own 
One wish so blest that you should share it too." 

Owen merkdith. 



"In life's delight, in death's dismay, 
In storm and sunshine, night and day, 
In health, in siclmess, in decay, 
Here and hereafter, I am thine." 



LONQFELLOW. 




Broken Dreams 



§Jcr0h |(ini|^ 



-0(73- 



In misty splendor sped the autumn days, 
To those who lingered in the witching maze 
Of love's late-entered paths. New glory crowned 
The mountain-tops, and from the skies bent down, 
And all the summer's dying loveliness 
Seemed blushing in the rosy-tinted dress 
With which a happy love all objects robes. 
Through tribulation had their cherished hopes 
Become at length fulfilled. No shadow dimmed 
The confidence that had through trial been 
Developed, and securely sealed, as deep 
And strong and perfect ; trust, entire and sweet, 
Filled both their hearts. 



212 BROKEN' DREAMS. 

And thus tlie autumn passed ; 
The winter fleetly sped, and spring at last 
Awoke the sleeping earth, and gayly dressed 
All Nature with her robes of loveliness 
And garlands of the fairest, sweetest flowers. 
And then poor Pansy sank beneath the power 
Of that dread scourge, diphtheria ! The hours 
So full of pain dragged wearily, until 
The time when she intended to fulfil 
Her plighted vows to him she dearly loved 
At last was nearly reached. Her strength had proved 
Sufficient to her enemy expel, 
Although she still was veiy far from well. 
Her friends in vain endeavored to induce 
The girl her marriage to defer. No use 
They found were their entreaties. She was still 
Determined, at all hazards, to fulfil 
The terms of their engagement at the time 
Before decided on. The stronger mind 
And will, as ever, triumphed in the end. 
And Pansy had her way in spite of friends. 

Fair dawned the bridal morning, late in June, 
Brilliant with sunlight, radiant with bloom 



BROKEN DBEMI8, 213 

Of countless flowers, which through the shaded rooms 

With every breeze sent breaths of rich perfume. 

And waiting for the coming of the man 

On whom that morning she'd bestow her hand, 

Alone within her room, she stood before 

Her mirror critically looking o'er 

Her handsome trav'ling toilet — in which guise 

She'd leave behind her maidenhood, and rise 

To wifehood's higher duties — here and there 

Adjusting folds or ribbons, with a care 

As grave as it was graceful, while her fair. 

Still ungloved hands, on which the ring of troth 

Was gleaming with a lustre bright and soft, 

Perceptibly were trembling with fatigue, . 

So frail was yet her strength. Her fair, soft cheeks 

Were white as v/as the filmy, costly lace 

Which shaded throat and hands and lovely face. 

Her dress of lavender became her well, 

And gracefully its heavy, rich folds fell 

Around the fragile form. She looked, indeed. 

In no respect less lovely, than when cheeks 

And lips were flushed with rosy health's carmine. 

Which bounded through her veins like ruby wine. 



214 BROKEN DREAJI8. 

At least so thinks the man that enters now 
"With smiling lips, serene and beaming brow, 
And draws within his arms the lovely girl, 
Alike regardless of her flowing curls, 
Her crushing laces, disarranging dress, 
And whispers as her lips his kisses press : 
" My bride, my Pansy ! blessings on you, dear, 
For giving me the right to hold you here, 
My own, my wife. I never thought to know 
Such happiness as you to-day bestow 
On one whose every heart-beat has for years 
Been only, love, for you ; who finds his fears 
All merged in hope's fulfilment, sweet, entire. 
And gratified his every fond desire. 
I never thought to know the happiness 
Of holding thus my darling to my breast, 
And knowing all my love to be returned, . 
That in her heart an answering passion burns. 
That I'm her chosen out of all the world. 
That all my own is this dear little girl. 
Look up, my Heart's-ease ! does this hour to you 
Give equal happiness, as deep and true ? 
Kiss me, my wife, and say you love me too." 



BROKEN DREAMS. 215 

He turned her face to his. No vivid bloom 
The fair cheeks wanted then, but dimpled soon 
By saucy smiles that parted roguish lips, 
As she from his embrace adroitly slipped. 
Exclaiming, " Mr. Golden, youVe begun 
Too early to command ! the deed's not done 
That gives to you the right. I'm Pansy Grey, 
And have not promised yet that I'll obey. 
See how you've disarranged my pretty dress, 
You naughty boy ! " 

He laughed and nearer pressed, 
But she with hands extended waved him off. 
And though hor eyes with love's glad light were soft, 
Severely she continued : " Take that chair, 
And to again approach me do not dare. 
See how you've crushed my laces, mussed my hair. 
And disarranged my ribbons." 

" Never mind," 
He laughed, " since I have given, you will find, 
To you as well a most becoming bloom. 
And you can rectify all damage soon." 

The bonnet was removed, the shining curls 
Adjusted 'till they satisfied the girl. 



216 BROKEN DREAMS. 

The laces smoothed, the ribbons rearranged, 
And here and there a heavy fold was changed, 
And then, her toilet once again complete, 
She sank exhausted in the nearest seat. 
And drawing on her gloves awaited there 
The summons to the parlors to repair. 

A half hour later in the rooms below, 
Whose close-shut blinds subdued the golden, glow 
Of summer's brightest sunlight, and whose air 
Was heavy with the breath of flowers there 
In sweet profusion scattered, was a small. 
Attentive group, and in the midst of all, 
There stood a manly figure strong and tall. 
With one of girlish lightness at his side ; 
And as he took the fair hand of the bride, 
And placed thereon the circlet that should bind 
The two together through all coming time, 
In bands of perfect love that casts out feaf, 
Upon the hushed air, full, and deep, and clear. 
The man's voice rang, as he with head bent low. 
And reverential manner, soft and slow 
Repeated : " With this ring I wed thee now. 
With all my worldly goods I thee endow. 
Through Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen ! " 



BROKEN DREAMS. 21Y 

They knelt ! The man of God commended them 
To his great Master's kind, jDrotecting care, 
And prayed that blessings on them he'd not spare. 

Then rising, came the solemn last command : 
" What God hath joined together, let no man 
Asunder part." " I name thee man and wife ! " 
And they were one for all their future life. 

As David turned to seal his marriage vows, 
He whispered low : " The deed's accomplished now, 
And you no longer are Miss Pansy Grey. 
You've promised, love, your husband to obey. 
And thus I seal my rights ! " 

He turned away. 
Congratulations followed. Mrs. Grey, 
Still nursing her displeasure, coldly kissed 
The trembling lips her daughter gave, and wished 
With formal coolness that she might have joy. 
Poor Pansy's pleasure dimmed, and she employed 
Her utmost force of will her tears to check. 
And not to heed the bitter pain which swept 
All through her loving heart, and in an hour 
When happiness should been the ruling power. 
10 



218 " BROKEN DREAMS. 

The carriage soon appeared, and side by side 
Were seated speedily the groom and bride. 
The horses bounded off 'mid laughing cheers 
And gay farewells, and smiles, a few bright tears, 
And thus together, they two, hand in hand, 
Their wedded pilgrimage of life began. 




BEOKEIT DEEAMS. 



BOOK TENTH. 



*' God calls our loved ones, but we lose not whoUy 
"What He liath given : 
They live on earth in thought and deed as tndy 
As in His heaven. 

J. Gr. WHITTIEB. 



' Then happy those— since each must drain 
His share of pleasure, share of pain — 
Then happy those beloved of Heaven, 
To whom the mingled cup is given, 
Whose lenient sorrows find reUef, 
Whose joys are chastened by their griefs." 

Bm WALTER Scott. 




Broken Dreams 



§ooh SDfnt^. 



A WEEK passed on ! and late one afternoon, 
A carriage reached the gate, and Pansy soon 
Was in her mother's arms. Their bridal tour 
To where our country's pride, Niagara, showers 
Its seething waters o'er the massive rocks 
Far down the dizzy height, "STas quickly stopped 
At one day's journey's end, by Pansy's strength 
Becoming still more frail; and they, at length, 
Of her ability to carry out 
Their pleasant plans and wishes, having doubt, 
Their faces homeward turned. And thus her dreams 
Which erst so sure of glad fulfilment seemed. 



222 BBOKEN DBEAM8. 

Again were broken, and she reached her home 

With faltering step, white cheeks, and frequent moan 

Of irritating pain. She should have known 

Her strength was not sufficient to endure 

So much exertion as would be insured 

By wedding preparations, and the tour 

Of many days' duration. For a time. 

Excitement and her strength of will and mind 

Sustained her ; but when once the deed was done 

Which made herself and him she loved both one, 

The tension of her mind and nerves relaxed. 

And all her former weakness rushing back, 

Again prostrated her. 

The summer long, 
The dire disease still held her in his strong, 
Eelentless grasp. And Pansy came to be 
A shadow of her former self: but she. 
Or day or night no care or "tenderness 
That watchful love could offer or suggest. 
E'er wanted : while she thanked the gracious Power 
That gave her such a friend, and in an hour 
When most she needed care that only one 
Who loved her could bestow. What she'd have done 



BROKEN DREAMS. 223 

Without her husband's arm on which to rest, 

Without his kind and careful tenderness, 

I do not know ! She must have suffered much 

For want of loving watchfulness, and such 

Attentions as her state of health required. 

And which were given by one who'd long desired 

No higher earthly blessing than the right 

To shield his love through all the storms that might 

Hereafter beat on her defenceless head. 

That right at last was his ; a few words said 

One gold*en morning in the month of June, 

Had given him the precious, longed-for boon 

Of cherishing in sickness or in health. 

Through storm or sunshine, poverty or wealth, 

This tender object of a life-long love. 

Begun on earth, but sealed in Heaven above. 

The trust he sought, and now at length possessed. 
Was guarded with the utmost tenderness. 
And care untiring, love that never dimmed. 
That grew more strong and perfect, as within 
His tender arms he held the fragile form. 
And gazing on the lovely face so wan, 
The cheeks so thin, the large, dark-circled eyes, 
He felt his hold upon the precious prize 



224 BBOEEN' DBEAM8. 

That he'd so lately won, was, oh, so slight, 
That in that life so frail dwelt all the light 
And joy and happiness of his poor life, 
"VYliich would to him be worthless if deprived 
Of this one priceless treasure. 

He'd not learned 
To look above in trial ; or to turn 
To One for comfort who will ne'er deny 
To poor weak-hearted mortals, who apply 
To Him for solace in the time of grief, 
The truest, sweetest, most entire relief. 

But God was merciful ! and when the snows 
Of Winter wrapped the earth in glist'ning robes 
Of bridal whiteness, to her cheeks the glow 
Of coy, reluctant health again returned, 
Within her veins the pulse of new life burned. 
Her eye its pristiae brightness soon regained. 
And round and full her wasted form became. 

Her mother still her strong dislike retained 
To Pansy's choice in wedding ; and contrived 
The sweet initial year of married life 
To render one with stem discomfort rife. 



BROKEN DEEAMS. 225 

And many pangs of pain, to say the least. 
By sliowing Pansy she was much displeased 
Not only at her marriage to the man 
On whom she'd chosen to bestow her hand 
In contradiction to her strong desire 
And opposition, but, with all the ire 
And want of reason which, in invalids 
Like her, is frequently exhibited. 
At Pansy's illness also, which deprived 
Her mother of the loving care her life 
Of helpless pain had never missed before. 
And thus, day after day, her child bent o'er 
The suff'rer's couch with uncomplaining care, 
Although the trembling limbs, and weary air, 
Betrayed how quite unfit she was to bear 
The arduous task of nursing, the fatigue 
Of ministering to the constant needs 
Of one so fretful and capricious too. 
As was at times the invalid, and v/ho 
'Twas often quite impossible to please, 
Try as she might to humor each caprice. 

Her mother's anger greatly troubled her, 

Yet even that had not the pow'r to stir 
10* 



226 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Her heart with grief and sucli indignant pain 

As did the manner Mrs. Grey maintained 

To Pansy's husband ev^er — which became 

Bepellent and insulting scarcely less, 

As time passed on, and caused intense distress 

To one who loved them both so passing well. 

But David's fine, sweet temper never held 

Resentment for a moment at the way 

In which he'd e'er been used by Mrs. Grey, 

And gladly aught that in his power lay 

To ease or soothe the weary invalid. 

And to her comfort minister, he did. 

And Pansy's brother. Temple, for a time 
Was no less insolent, no less unkind, 
Than was his mother. Thus another source 
Of strong annoyance ruffled all the course 
Of Pansy's early days of married life ; 
And speedily she found that when a wife 
She had become, she did not leave behind 
All vexing cares, all troubles of the mind 
Or heart, however sweetly she reposed 
In consciousness of love ; however close 
The tender husband arms might clasp her 'round ; 
However true and perfect were the bounds 



BROKEN DREAMS. 227 

Of their now rounded lives, this tronblous world 
Still roany a night-shade wreath of pain held curled 
Beneath its wings of brightness. Not a joy 
So perfect but it held some base alloy 
Of past or future grief, and not a dream 
So lovely but it had some gloomy scene. 



Two years had passed ! and in a darkened room 
To faintness filled with heavy, rich perfume, 
One mom of beauty, late in blooming June, 
Upon a low white couch a lady lay. 
With eye as bright as was the sunny day, 
And smile of happy sweetness on her lips. 
Although the lily-cups that stoop to kiss 
Their lowlier neighbors with a royal air 
Of condescension, not more white and fair 
"Were ever than the snowy cheeks that pressed 
The lace-trimmed pillow, as, with sighs of rest 
And sweet contentment, to her throbbing breast 
She clasped the tiny mite of human life 
Which rested on her arm, and had contrived 
Thus early to absorb within its form 
So tiny, fragile, rosy, soft, and warm, 



228 BROKEN DBEAM8. 

Much of that wondrous, pow'rful mother-love, 

Intense, unselfish, pure and sweet, above 

All other earthly passions. Love that comes 

Unbidden, with the first faint breath of one 

Our heavenly Father gives us but through pain — 

But lends us for a little time, again 

To call that sentient part we name the " Soul,^'' 

Back to its native home, where waits the whole 

Of its immortal kindred to receive 

The wand'ring spii-it back with welcome sweet.] 

As Pansy Golden on her couch reposed, 
And held her tiny baby-treasure close. 
Although so lately had the birdling come 
To add sweet childhood's charm to their dear home, 
The mother-love, so potent and complete, 
Through all her feeble pulses strongly beat. 
And -when her husband, entering the door. 
And softly stepping to her side, bent o'er 
His happy wife with beaming tenderness, 
And on her lips love's sweetest kisses pressed. 
She said : " Oh David, have you seen your boy ? 
Is he not lovely ! " and with mother-joy 
She folded back the blankets richly wrought, 
Displaying thus a rosy face she thought 



BROKEN DREAMS. 229 

Of baby beauty the perfection quite. 
And David, with a more subdued delight, 
But no less deep and perfect, gently raised 
The tiny morsel from his wife's embrace, 
And on the wrinkled, pink-hued, velvet face, 
Of this, their one sweet pledge of wedded love. 
This lovely blossom sent from Heaven above, 
His first parental kisses softly pressed. 
Then laid it back upon its mother's breast. 
And felt that life another charm possessed. 
That his fair wife was loveliest and best. 
His child the sweetest babe that ever blest 
A father's heart with deep and thankful joy. 

As time passed on and fairer grew the boy, 
So wonderful a child was never seen ! 
No baby eyes e'er shone with such a gleam 
Of roguish radiance, no baby lips 
So soft and sweet and pure were ever kissed. 
No infant limbs were e'er so round and white, 
No laugh was e'er so gleeful, face so bright. 
No baby ways so witching, roguish, sweet, 
Ne'er were such dainty hands, such dimpled feet, 
As had this infant king, who with a way 
Despotic as an Eastern monarch's sway. 



230 BROKEN DBEAMS. 

Ruled every member of that household band, 
Who biit obeyed too gladly each command 
Of*such a worshipped ruler, 

'Twas a sight 
Of charming loveliness to see the bright 
And beauteous boy held close within the arms 
Of one to whom her motherhood new charms 
Imparted, while with happy, smiling face. 
And attitude of sweet, unconscious gi'ace, 
She gayly sported with her mirthful boy^ 
Whose baby laugh, so sweet, and full of joy, 
Eang blithely out in ripples soft and clear, 
Echoed by one which on the list'ning ear 
Fell scarcely less bewitchingly and sweet, 
And spoke of joy as innocent as deep. 

What fairer sight was e'er to mortal eyes 
Presented ! And in vain the artist tries 
With all the skill of which he is possessed 
To leave the picture on his canvas pressed : 
In vain the sculptor from his marble block 
Attempts with master art to chisel what 
No tool or pencil can do justice to. 
How, then, can I expect to give to you, 



BROKEN DREAMS. 231 

My reader, with my own unskilful pen, 

What many of our noblest, greatest men 

Have ever failed in efforts to portray. 

But all of you have seen', day after day, 

A fair madonna and her lovely babe. 

And know how sweet a picture thus was made. 

Look on the fairest lady that you know, 

As o'er her infant she is bending low. 

And see a sculptured group, by hand Divine 

Carved grandly out— of which these words of mine 

Are but a worthless copy, small and rough. 

And with a hand unskilful rudely cut. 



Time swiftly sped 'till six months more were gone I 
The summer vanished, and the wintry storms 
Had shaken from the clouded, weeping sky, 
A shower of frozen tear-drops, piling high 
The crystal mites above the gloomy tomb 
Of all the year's dead beauty. 

In a room 
Whose curtains closely drawn shiit out the light, 
Upon a couch all draped in snowy white, 
A figure lay, as still as if the breath 
Had ceased to flutter, and the Angel Death 



232 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Who now stood tiptoe near the low, white bed, 
Had on the lady's haughty, handsome head 
His heavy hand of ice already placed. 
And set his marble seal upon the face 
E'en in its rigid stillness, lovely yet. 
Closed were the fine large eyes of lustrous jet, 
And on the ashen cheeks the lashes lay 
Without a tremor — lips to ghastly gray 
Were paling rapidly beneath the taint 
Of coming death — each respiration faint 
And fainter grew, while near and nearer pressed 
The shad'wy form of their unwelcome guest. 
That ghastly presence whose mysterious chill 
Strikes every soul with dread, that seems to fill 
Each nook and corner of a dwelling-place 
He once has entered, leaving there a trace 
Of mystic horror, few can e'er resist, 
Explain, or conquer. 

Logic to assist 
The mind to rise above this nameless fear, 
We summon but in vain — it still is here, 
However Reason argue. All in vain 
She shows to us our folly, and explains 



BROKEN DREAMS. 233 

The pure impossibility tliat harm 

Should come to us from one whom Death disarms 

Of all his former pov»^er. In vain inquires 

"Why one we dearly loved in life inspires 

Such shrinking dread when but the pulseless form 

Remains of what but lately was so warm 

With bounding, throbbing life. For while we own 

Our fear is causeless, and perhaps bemoan 

Our weakness thus to yield to such a dread. 

When night comes on with gloomy, stealthy tread, 

Back comes the ghostly terror, and in spite 

Of Reason's sophistry, which in the light 

Of golden day so plausible had seemed. 

Our courage all has vanished like a dream 

From which we're rudely 'wakened, and the scene 

Where Death is, or has been, is visited 

With furtive glance, with trembling limbs and tread, 

And heart with hushed pulsations. 

Few, I think, 
So brave in spirit are as ne'er to shrink 
With horror from the presence of the dead. 
All more or less have felt the nameless dread, 
For all within their natures have a vein 
Of human superstition. 



234 BROKEN DREAMS. 

It is plain 
We often fear what we can ne'er explain ; 
And therefore 'tis the mystery, I think, 
Attending onr departure from the brink 
Of Time to vast Eternity — whose shore 
Is never seen till we've been paddled o'er 
The stream of Death — that causes us to fear 
The supernatural Presence ling'ring here, 
The fact we're powerless to penetrate 
Beyond the confines of this human state. 
The mystic veil which from our finite sight 
Hides the departing soul's triumphant flight. 
The dark, mysterious way our loved one trod. 
When flitted back the spirit to his God. 

And so poor Pansy's mother, Mrs. Grey, 
Lay silent on her couch, while ebbed away 
The flick'ring pulse of life. Disease for long 
Had held in his embraces, stem and strong. 
This poor frail human frame. This fearful strife 
Between the potent powers of Death and Life 
Had been both long and sharp ; but Death at last 
The life-camp's outposts had in triumph passed, 
And now as conqueror his fallen foe 
He grimly bent above, the fatal blow 



BROKEN DREAMS, 235 

Delaying but a moment, while he held 

The manacles of ice with which to queK 

His enemy's resistance, and to guard 

The feeble, vanquished captive, while his barque 

Should bear them rapidly across the stream, 

So dark if 'twere not for the golden gleam 

Of light that glimmers through the pearly gates 

Of God's celestial Kingdom, where awaits 

A welcome for the prisoners of Death, 

If they can say ere fails the falt'ring breath, 

" I trust in Jesus, who for me has died. 

In Him, my Counsellor, Eedeemer, Guide." 

Thus could His present captive truly say, 
While lips grew pale and pulses ebbed away. 
Her Saviour's arm through many a weary day 
Of untold agony had been her stay ; 
But, though for many years within her heart 
The Christian's hope she'd cherished, 'till a part 
Of life and being it had long become. 
And though more racking pain not many an one 
Have suffered and endured, and though her life 
Appeared to be of all its charms deprived. 
And but one long, long day of weary pain 
Which fretted nerves, and racked the poor, frail frame, 



236 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Depriving it of all volition, still 

She clung to life, with all lier force of will 

Detei^mined never to give up the field 

Or to her enemy so potent yield, 

Until by force her strength was overcome, 

And she compelled as pris'ner to succumb 

And own that Death was conqueror. At length 

Her feeble frame's resistance all was spent. 

And o'er her Death was grimly bending now, 

His icy breath already fanned her brow. 

Her feet already touched the chilling waves 

Of Jordan's stream, whose cold, cold waters laved 

The shore of Time where faintly lingered yet 

The poor, reluctant spirit. 

Hound her bed 
Were gathered all the treasured ones of earth, 
Her precious household jewels, at whose birth 
Her mother-heart had leaped with perfect joy — 
Her weeping daughter and her one proud boy. 
And he, that other now acknowledged son, 
Whose kindly care and tenderness had won 
The prejudiced, proud heart, whose manly strength 
Had in her service been so freely spent. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 237 

Whose strong and tender arms the poor racked frame 

Had lifted oft so carefully no pain 

The dreaded motion followed — he was there, 

And bending o'er his stricken wife's low chair. 

He whispered words of comfort in the ear 

Of her whose heart seemed bursting with the drear 

Bereavement it was called upon to bear, 

That fearful anguish which can be compared 

To none beside : a grief which stands alone. 

And though to many hearts there may be known 

Much deeper, sharper sorrow, fiercer pain. 

And agony intenser in the main. 

Than death could bring to them, they're all unlike 

That fearful grief of watching by the side 

Of one we dearly love, and knowing well 

We're impotent to stem the rising swell 

Of Jordan's tide, which speedily shall bear 

Our treasures far beyond our loving care, 

Beyond our longing reach, our straining sight, 

To realms of blessedness and pure delight. 

Where they will wait our coming. 

That, indeed, 
To hearts that with such grievous sorrow bleed, 



238 BBOKEN DREAMS, 

Is all the healing balm that can be given — 
The thought that in our Saviour's glorious Heaven, 
So fair, no mortal heart has e'er conceived 
The beauty that adorns the golden streets. 
They watch and wait for us — that in that home 
No care or pain or sorrow e'er can come, 
That there our loved ones may forever rest. 
Safe, blessed, holy, on their Saviour's breast. 

Life many bitter pains and sorrows hath 
In store for those who thread its thorny paths, 
And each one seemeth to our poor weak hearts 
To hold the sharpest woe, the fiercest smart. 
We madly love, and find it all in vain. 
Unknown and unre turned, and deem the pain, 
The aggravating grief such knowledge gives, 
The hardest one can e'er endure and live. 
Again, we find our confidence betrayed. 
Our loved ones false, our hopes a failure made, 
And turn away with hearts all wounded, sore. 
From life that holds such grievous stabs in store. 
Or else a child— a brother — we believed 
The soul of truth and honor, has deceived, 
Dishonored, and disgraced us. In despair 
We feel this blow the hardest one to bear 



BROKEN DREAMS. 239 

That life could offer iis ; and wildly cry, 
" Oh, God, have pity on me, let me die ! 
Oh, would my idol Thou had'st snatched away 
When on his fair, soft cheek the roses lay 
Of infant beauty ; when his baby heart 
Was pure and innocent in every part; 
Ere life had shown him what it was to sin. 
And paths of worldly folly drawn him in ; 
Then had my soul been spared this bitter woe. 
Oh, life is worthless ; Father, let me go ! " 

If none of these, then Death, perchance, steps in. 
And beckons one that to our hearts has been 
The dearest object all the earth contained. 
His bidding is obeyed ; for ne'er in vain 
Both he for mortals call. And though we fain 
In arms of love our dear ones would retain, 
However passionate and close our hold. 
We feel the tender frame grow pulseless, cold, 
The breath ebb swiftly out, until at last 
When we release them from our eager clasp, 
We find our loving hold was but in vain. 
The gem is gone, and nothing now remains 
Except the lovely casket. This to us 
Seems giief without equality. 



240 BROKEN DREAMS. 

And thus 
We see each trial has its own amount 
Of agonizing grief, and which we count 
The sharpest life could bear us. Therefore who 
Presumes to say, " The paiu that comes to you 
Is nothing when compared to grief like mine " ? 
We cannot tell ! So versatile are minds 
That what to me would be life's sorest woe, 
And crush my heart and lay my courage low, 
To you, perhaps, would be the lightest blow 
The chast'ning rod of Jesus could inflict. 
And likewise, what might greatly you afflict, 
And bow your head as in the very dust, 
To me might seem a trifling grievance. 

Thus, 
Poor Pansy holding her unconscious boy, 
Unheeding all his wiles, his baby joy. 
Supported by the tender, manly arm 
Encircliug her, whose clasp, so close and warm. 
Expresses all the sympathy that beats 
Within his loving heart — with anguish weeps 
Above the silent form whose failing breath 
She watches close, till on the breast of Death 



BROKEN DREAMS. - 241 

The last faint respiration flutt'ring dies. 
And 'neath his kisses close the weary eyes. 

Oh, who can tell how lonely seem the rooms 
Where lately Death has spread his robes of gloom ! 
How dark the silent corridors, whose floors 
Shall echo to the loved one's tread no more ; 
How desolate the chambers seem wherein 
The loved, familiar form so long had been ; 
How sad the vacant chair, the empty bed. 
How all things seem repeating "dead! dead! dead! " 



And time still glides along ! Six months have passec 
Since Pansy Golden, weeping, looked her last 
Upon her mother's pulseless form and face, 
"When Jesus called her home, and left her place 
Unfilled and desolate, and she again 
Attempts in vain the tide of grief to stem. 
Which tries at every step to overwhelm 
Her poor, frail life-barque on the sea of Time, 
Which seems so many hidden reefs to find 
Beneath the crested waves that looked so blue : 
A gain in agony is wading through 



11 



242 BROKEN DREAMS. 

The deep, deep waters of affliction sore, 
And with a breaking heart is bending o'er 
The fairy couch where lies her infant boy. 
His dark eyes closed, his rippling laugh of joy 
To silence hushed ; while through the purple lips 
Which give no answer to the anguished kiss 
Thereon impressed, a faint, low moan of pain, 
That seems to rend the mother's heart in twain. 
Is issuing momently. 

" Oh God," she prays. 
With whitened lips and anguished, tear- wet face, 
" I cannot give him up ! oh, spare my boy. 
My one wee lamb, my comfort, treasure, joy ! 
Thy heaven is full of cherubs like to mine, 
Oh, spare my idol for a little time ! 
Close not his perfect lips with Death's cold seal. 
Nor from his dainty limbs the life-pulse steal ! 
I cannot part with him ! oh God, I pray. 
Be merciful ; in mercy turn away 
The arrows of Thy wrath. This crowning woe 
Is more than I can bear ! oh, must he go, 
\ My baby, treasure, pet ? " 

But vain her prayers, 
Her wild entreaties that her God would spare 



BROKEN DREAMS. 243 

This lamb to arms of yearning mother-love, 
This flower but lent to her by One above, 
Who now desired her blossom to transplant 
Within the Heavenly Gardens, where by hands 
Divine it should be tended, kept away 
From all the guile of earth, until the day 
When she shouljd enter through the pearly gates. 
And in the flow'ry crown which there awaits. 
Behold her lovely blossom glorified, 
And with a Heavenly beauty richly dyed. 

But while she watched her baby's cheek grow pale, 
She could not look beyond the heavy veil 
Of sullen gloom that settled o'er her head. 
As once again she saw a shadow dread 
Creep o'er their happy threshold. Could not. see 
That what to her would fearful anguish be. 
To him, her baby treasure, would be gain. 
And freedom from all earthly sin and pain, 
'Till in her heart a whisper soft and low, 
Hushed the rebellious waves of grievous woe. 
And while she listened came the tender tones 
Of Him who had for her on Calvary groaned : 



244 BROKEN DREAMS. 

" Oh hush , My child ! 'Tis not in wrath I send 
This sorrow to thy heart ! In love I bend 
The bow which sends the fatal arrow home, 
And wounding thee, but gives me back My own. 
I only gather in My tender arms 
The lamb thou'rt impotent to shield from harm ; 
But bear thy treasure on before, a time. 
Where, when I call thee also, thou shalt find 
Awaiting thee within thy mansion fair — 
By One who loves and died for thee, j^repared. 
Which I have bought by suff'rings like to thine — 
Thy precious babe, whose lovely face shall shine 
With heav'nly radiance, as he welcomes home 
No more to sin, to grieve, no more to roam. 
The loving ones of earth. Oh, think, my child, 
Of all the earthly stains, the sorrow wild. 
The cares and troubles of this mortal life, 
From which thy boy'll be shielded. Think what I've 
For thee endured ! and canst thou not give up 
For me this one bright jewel ? Take the cup, 
And drink submissively, and thou shalt find 
That when thou'st quaffed the froth of bitter wine, 
The dregs are sweet as nectar. Trust my love. 
And when thou'st gained thy better home above. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 245 

Thou'lt find thy griefs are blessings in disguise, 
And sent by One all-loving as all- wise." 

The stricken soul still wailed, but not in waves 
Kebellious did the troubled waters rave. 
Tears coursed in silence down the poor, pale cheeks, . 
And words of love the mother-lips did speak. 
In trembling tones were uttered. Vast and deep 
The anguish was which raged within the heart 
Compelled to with its dearest treasure part, . 
And high it swelled as she her wounded bird — 
Whose wings were drooping with a mortal hurt. 
Within whose tender breast the shaft of Death 
Was buried deep, whose faint and flutt'ring breath 
Came but in gasps— held tight within the arms 
Of mother-love, whose pressure, close and warm, 
Must soon relax, and yield the precious dove 
To clasp more fond than that of human love, 
Must lay her baby on the breast of God, 
And kiss submissively His chast'ning rod. 

And so with tears and groans and anguished grief 
She saw her blossom fade, whose life so brief 
Had shed such fragrance through her happy home, 
Since from her Father's hand the gift had come. 



246 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Saw slowly dim the little lamp of life, 

Wliose shining had with so much joy been rife, — 

And held at last the lovely cage alone, 

From which her birdie had forever flown — 

The lovely semblance of her precious boy, 

Whose pure, sweet soul through realms of endless joy 

Was gladly bounding ; — held the casket fair. 

From which the priceless jewel, lately there, 

Was lost forever, to be found above. 

Set in the breastplate of a Saviour's love. 

Oh, what a mystery is life and death !j 
The thinking soul, the flowing, ebbing breath ; 
That mystic moiety of the Father's heart, 
Which He for just a little time imparts 
To these poor human caskets, frail and thin. 
To prove our close relationship with Him, 
And who anon will welcome us within 
The gleaming gates of home, where we shall find 
Ourselves in arms of Father love divine. 
The while our Elder Brother, standing by, 
, With yearning smile and tender, loving eye. 
Speaks Sis glad greeting to the welcome one, 
Long absent, but at last arrived at home. 



BROKEN DREAMS. 247 

'Twill not be long before we all are there ! 
Those soonest called most rarely favored are. 
Oh, how unstained and pure we should attempt 
To keep these jewels that are only lent, 
That when our Father calls for their return, 
They may not be from Him with anger spurned, 
In consequence of being all defaced 
With nicks of sin that nothing can erase. 

So Pansy turned another bitter leaf 
Within her book of life ! The thorny wreath 
That crowned and often pierced her woman's brow, 
With one more prickly stem was bristling now; 
And sore at heart, with aching, tear-wet eyes, 
With bitter moan, and sharp, convulsive sighs. 
She saw her latest idol snatched away. 
While all her dreams in mournful ruins lay. 



One scene of beauty ere we bid adieu 
To those whom sun and shade we've followed through, 
For many changeful years. 

Five times the shroud 
Of stern old Winter, in a snowy cloud, 



248 BROKEN DREAMS. 

Has wrapped the dead brown earth ; five times the gleam 
Of glowing Summer, with a purple sheen, 
Has lingered on the hill-tops, when, one day- 
Late in September, beautiful and gay. 
We enter David Golden's handsome grounds, 
For one last ling'ring look. A glance around, 
And near an arbor hung with green festoons. 
And decked with luscious grapes whose purple bloom 
Glows richly when relieved by trellis white, 
And wreaths of lustrous green the shifting light 
With varied shading tints, a merry group 
Our eyes behold. 

From lofty ladder stoops 
A tall, broad-shouldered man, with happy face, 
With smiling lips, and eyes that hold no -trace, 
In this glad moment, of a long-past pain, 
A grief that near his heart for years had lain ; 
While on the ground, within the arbor door, 
Whose rustic arch with trailing vines 'wreathed o'er 
A fitting frame for such a picture forms, 
A lady stands, whose damask cheek is warm 
With happy flushes, and whose violet eyes 
Are scarcely rivalled by the purple dyes 



BROKEN DBEAM8. 240 

That stain the clustered fruit above her head, 
Whose laughing lips with health's sweet flush are red, 
Whose flowing robes of white which sweep the ground 
Betray the form has grown more full and round. 
While from her arms a two-year baby girl. 
The lady's counterpart in flowing curls. 
In sunny smile, soft eyes, and peach-bloom cheeks, 
With merry glee her dimpled hands up-reach 
To grasp the ripened clusters which, with smiles, 
The happy father tosses down the while. 

A pretty picture ! shifting light and shade, 
A leafy background, rustic frame o'erlaid 
With fruited, drooping vines, the lovely child 
In dainty robes, with glee and laughter wild. 
The graceful mother with her noble face 
Whereon her lovely life has left sweet trace, 
And rounded form full of unconscious grace. 
Each looking up to meet the tender eyes 
Of him whose love completes their rounded lives. 
And over all the radiance soft and bright. 
Of Heaven's own unrivalled, brilliant light. 

We'll leave them there ! Life still may have in store. 

Perchance, of " broken dreams," a many more ; 
11* 



250 BROKEN DBEAM8. 

For scarce a year but holds some record dark 
Of days of sorrow, disappointments sharp, 
To every sensitive, frail human heart. 
But while in arms of love divine secure. 
Their happiness, come weal or woe, is sure. 
And thus we leave them in the hands of One 
Who leads us " onward, upward," to our home. 





L' ENVOI. 



My reader, if in efforts to portray 
The life I've held in view from day to day, 
I've had success sufficient to retain 
Your interest to the end, I now would fain 
In closing say to you, no fancy sketch 
This story is, I faintly thus have etched, 
But in its outliae is the life of one 
I deem the sweetest woman I have known. 
Whose lovely life and person have inspired 
With admiration one who has desired 
No task more pleasant than with what poor skill 
She may possess, these outlines brief to fill 
' With incident and feeling, which, supplied 
Alone by fancy, should not once imply 



252 / X' ENVOI. 

A thought of aught save rev'rent, tender love 
For one gone home to God — called up above 
When in the bloom of youthful wedded life, 
A loving mother and a happy wife ; 
And leaving all her earthly loves behind, 
Went " onward, upward," purer joys to find, 
Where waiting for her coming was a band 
Of loved ones gone before to that bright land — 
Her mother, father, friends, and cherished child, 
Her God's approval, and her Saviour's smile. 



FINIS. 



